


Battle of the Beginning

by DazzlingLoki2018



Series: Hope of Heaven [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Apocalypse Ending, Alternate Ending (Supernatural), Angels (Supernatural) - Freeform, Archangels (Supernatural), Big Brother Michael, Crazy Lucifer (Supernatural), Everyone returns to Heaven, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt Gabriel (Supernatural), Hurt Lucifer (Supernatural), Hurt Michael (Supernatural), Hurt Raphael (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer returns to Heaven, Michael and Lucifer make-up, Original Female Character (Supernatural) - Freeform, POV Multiple, Pre-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 04:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DazzlingLoki2018/pseuds/DazzlingLoki2018
Summary: A girl that just wants to belong but is caught in the ultimate battle. Loving people on both sides, she is forced to choose. However, she realizes that she can't and sets out to find her own way to save Heaven, Hell, and Earth before they are destroyed. However she soon realizes that it's not just up to her and after inadvertently yanking years of hidden secrets and hurt into the open, she brings together two brothers who loved each other more than anything, but also have the power to destroy each other, and the universe as well





	1. The Thrill of the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Hello wonderful readers! My name's Daz, and this is the first installment of the "Hope of Heaven" series. I don't want to give too much away so I'll give a short list of things to remember while reading. 
> 
> Italicized words- emphasized words  
> Italicized phrases- thoughts of the 'narrator.'  
> More little notes will be added as the story continues!
> 
> Thank you and enjoy chapter one of "Battle of the Beginning."  
> -Daz :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful readers! My name's Daz, and this is the first installment of the "Hope of Heaven" series. I don't want to give too much away so I'll give a short list of things to remember while reading.  
> Italicized words- emphasized words  
> Italicized phrases- thoughts of the 'narrator.'  
> More little notes will be added as the story continues!  
> Thank you and enjoy chapter one of "Battle of the Beginning."  
> -Daz :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from SPN, all rights go to the original creators

The only sounds that are heard is the gentle rustling of the leaves, stirred by the whisper-soft wind filtering by, and my own, nearly silent breathing. My feet tread soundlessly over the scatterings of leaves and branches as I creep stealthily around bushes and trees, the dark lighting providing the perfect cover.

My fingers flex instinctively around the trigger of my .45 ACP, and I resist the urge to brush my free hand over my thighs to make sure my knives, and flasks of holy water and salt, are still there. They are, of course, in this lifestyle it was be prepared or prepare to die. One slip up and I could very quickly find myself with a slashed throat or something along the lines of that.

Behind me, I can very faintly hear what may be the footsteps of my companions. I glance behind me for a few seconds and catch sight of them. They move seamlessly, winding gracefully through the foliage that seemed to create a maze of nature. Their guns are clenched tightly in their hands, and I can barely see the lumps left behind by their other weapons.

I shake my head and focus my attention ahead of me. I can’t let myself become distracted by anything in this sort of situation. Being on a hunt like this meant life or death for us, and any distractions could very quickly cause a tragedy.

I was just about to hop over a fallen tree when a scream shattered the silence. I froze, feeling rather than hearing my companions stop directly behind me. I carefully climb over the tree and creep up the slight incline, peeking down into the clearing down below. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the scene down below.

To an average person, the scene unfolding would seem odd at most, but I know just how violent and dark this situation can get if not handled properly. I silently creep down the slope, drawing my knife and looking around. Once I was sure the coast was clear I sped up and rush over to the reason for this little traipse through the woods; a young girl, barely older than myself.

The girl, whom the family had called Emma, looks up weakly at my approach and the fear there was quickly replaced with guarded hope. I crouch down in front of her, setting my knife and gun down directly next to me.

“You’re Emma right?” I ask in a hushed whisper, ignoring my companions pacing around behind me. The girl nods and I offer a small smile to her. “My name’s Faith, I’m here to help you.” Hopeful tears well in the girl's eyes, her body shaking with palpable relief, as I help her sit up from the ground.

“Thank God you’re here. That _thing_ left only a few minutes ago, I thought he was gonna kill me.” she whimpers out, and I nod absentmindedly as I quickly check her over for any wounds and, more importantly, bite marks. “What _was_ that thing anyway?” she asks shakily, and I glance up, hesitating for a moment, before deciding on telling the truth.

“A werewolf.” It’s said bluntly, but that’s honestly how I am at times, and anyways it prevents any confusion.

Emma laughs lightly and shakes her head. “That’s crazy there are _no_ such things as _werewolves_ ,” she says, but I can hear the uncertainty in her voice, so I look up and fix her with a severe look.

“You saw the fangs and the claws, and from the state of your upper body, I’m guessing you narrowly missed being bite by him. Not normal human behavior and appearance is it?” She shakes her head and looks off into the trees behind us as I quickly, but thoroughly, finish my search.

I was just about to call one of the others over to help me get her up when Emma’s eyes suddenly widened, and a terrified scream left her mouth. I flip around quickly and immediately went into instinct mode. Four werewolves were barreling down the slope, eyes turning vivid green while there claws and fangs began to lengthen. I grab my gun and spring into action, pumping three of my silver bullets right into the one at the front. My sudden movement triggers the others into action as they pull their weapons out as well.

My breath leaves me as I spot three more of the beasts appear from within the trees and I curse to myself. How are we going to take on six of these things? I reach for my knife and quickly realize that I left it over by Emma, but just as I go to grab it a pained yell shoots through the air like a crack.

“Sam!” a rough voice shouts, and I look up just in time to see one of my companions, no other than Dean Winchester himself, take off across the clearing to where his brother, Sam Winchester, is lying on the ground in a pool of his blood. Dean thrusts his knife into one of the two werewolves standing over the vulnerable form of the younger Winchester and putting a bullet through the head of the other. For a moment I am frozen in my spot when another voice snaps me from it.

“Faith!” Bobby yells, suddenly right in my face. He shoves another knife into my hand just as the other four werewolves reach us. Bobby quickly takes the attention of two of them, the other two deciding to head straight for me. I quickly snap out of my shock and plunge the knife right into the neck of the were closest to me. The other one lunges at me, and I quickly yank my arm up and shoot three times, each bullet puncturing through his chest. The silver soon takes action, and the monster sinks to the ground. I look up to see Bobby decapitate the last one, his breathing just as heavy as mine as we meet each other's eyes for a moment.

However, the moment of relief is cut short when reality sets in and I spin on my heels looking around the clearing for the other two members of my little family. Dean is crouching over Sam, attempting to stem the flow of blood with some of the cloth he had ripped off of his shirt.

I shove my gun and the knife into my belt and race across the forest floor, falling to my knees next to Dean. Sam is pale, and it’s lucky I’m used to seeing blood and gore because the amount of the stuff that is pouring out of Sam’s wounds was atrocious.

I inhale slowly before quickly helping Dean start to stem the flow, once that was done, I pulled off my flannel, leaving me in my tank top, and begin to wrap the wound with it. From what I could tell, the werewolf had slashed Sam in his side, hitting a minor blood vessel. I thank whatever benevolent force there may be out there that it wasn’t a major artery or anything like that because we don't have the supplies on us to fix that. As we finish tending to Sam’s wound and once he didn’t look so dangerously pale, I glance behind me to check on Bobby and Emma.

My adoptive father had spent the last fifteen minutes or so keeping the teenaged girl calm enough, as to not attract the attention of any passing hikers or any of the animals that usually populated this area quite densely.

Eventually, Sam finds the strength to get up and, between the combined efforts of Dean and myself to keep him supported, we begin the trek back to our cars.

Now that the high from the hunt has worn off I can examine myself, and my other companions- besides Sam- of any injuries. Dean sports a couple of bruises and cuts while Bobby has a minor scratch across his cheek, where one of the weres must have caught him with a claw. As for myself, I am proud to say I made it out of the hunt unscathed, something that is quite uncommon considering the things we fight practically every couple of days.

The fifteen minute trek that had led us to the clearing took nearly forty-five minutes between having to practically carry Sam back and having to stop every few minutes to calm down a still extremely hysterical Emma, but eventually, we make it.It’s a relief when we stumble out onto the gravel road that we had taken to get here and to see our cars.

Dean and I manage to get Sam into the passenger seat and put Emma in the back. Once everyone is settled, and we agree to meet at the hotel after the boys returned Emma to her parents, Dean pulls off down the gravel road. Bobby is already in the car, and after throwing my weapons in my bag and finding another flannel shirt, I get into the passenger seat.

Bobby and I remain silent as we head towards the interstate, the car bumping gently along the road. Directly after a hunt, the silence is quite normal for us. Bobby is a man of few words; he’s one of those people that when he did talk, people listened to him. So, I enjoy the momentary silence, knowing that eventually, he would make me talk- if only to make sure I'm okay mentally instead of just physically- later at the motel. I close my eyes and drift, the soothing, and very familiar, rumble of the Chevrolet’s engine lulling me into a light slumber.

 


	2. The Life of a Teenage Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO WONDERFUL READERS!! Daz reporting for writing duty!!! (it's a very honorable job now shush XP) Anyways, welcome to the second chapter of Battle of the Beginning. I have spent the last two days editing and re-editing (and re-editing three more times after that *_*) this chapter, one thing that you all should know about my writing is I am a stickler about the grammar and the fluidity of anything I write, so it takes me a while to get things put out. I apologize if I miss anything in the process.  
> REMINDERS  
> italicized words = emphasized words  
> italicized phrases = thoughts of the 'narrator.'  
> Alrighty, a little side note; My usual co-writer (and my best friend) will soon be getting an account on here, so within the next few chapters she will be writing and adding little notes into the chapters. If any of you are interested in helping out or becoming a co-writer and/or beta read our stuff, leave me a comment, and I'll get back to you ASAP. Now, ON WITH THE STORY!!!  
> -Daz :)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPN, all rights go to the original creators!

Three hours later, nearly two hours after arriving back at the motel, I finally get a chance to take a shower and wash off all of the grime and blood that I had accumulated on the hunt. As much as I love my family, it was a relief to finally be able to close the door and get some peace and quiet.

As soon as the door clicks shut, I drop my bag on the floor and turn to face the mirror, grimacing when I saw the state I currently am in. With a sigh I tediously pull my hair out of the braid that I had plated it in early this morning, shaking it out. My usually straight hair now lies in a frizzy mess of curls, little sections standing straight up into cowlicks. I huff exasperatedly, only a few hours up in a hairdo and my hair has a mini tantrum.

Shaking my head, I quickly strip out of my clothes and turn on the water as hot as it would go. I step away for a moment, giving the water time to heat up, and pull out my hairbrush and other toiletries, along with a new set of clothes. That done, I take the few steps to the left that was between me and the shower and clamber in, sighing in relief as the hot water and steam wash over me.

The temperature, while most people would find it scalding, is perfect to me. I take a moment to stand there, letting the heat of it fall over me, taking the worries of the day with it. Before long, however, I pull myself out of my revere and begin the process of cleansing myself. I quickly scrub away all the filth that covered me before starting in on my hair. Once I deemed myself completely clean, I let myself stand there for a moment longer before shutting the water off and stepping out onto the cold tile floor.

I reach my hands, searching for a moment before my hand makes contact with the towel I had set on the counter. I quickly dry myself, then I turn my attention to wringing out my hair and wrapping it up in the- now damp- towel. I hum quietly to myself as I dress in the clean clothes sitting on the counter. This time, I've chosen a pair of comfortable blue jeans, an old Aerosmith t-shirt- a Christmas present from Dean- and an oversized hoodie. Once I was dressed, I turn my attention to my hair.

I roll my eyes as I pull the mass of knots out of the tangle, I will never understand how it manages to do that in such a short amount of time. Grumbling to myself, I pick up my brush and start to go through the tangles piece by piece. It's a tedious task but one that I have learned to deal with on a daily basis. When my hair is finally smooth and tangle free and simply pull it up into a messy bun and give up. I'll probably regret it later when I have to untangle it again, but it works for right now.

After gathering my stuff, I step out of the bathroom and head over to the couch- my claimed 'bed' for this week- dropping my stuff on the end of it.

Bobby and the boys are hovering over something at the small breakfast table in the far corner, and for the moment I leave them be. It is only after I check my phone for any new messages or voicemails and place said phone on the charger that I head over to them.

Sam looks up at me as I approach and I give him a broad smile, slipping into the small space available next to him. It's useful being this petite when you have to fit into tiny ass places like this, but it's not so helpful when I'm going up against a monster three times the size of me.

From what I've been told by Bobby, I've always been a tiny kid, one of the smallest he's ever seen. At least that's what he's said before, and I have to admit; his statement did have some truth to it. I'm still the scrawny, five foot, 98-pound girl that I was a year and a half ago.

Honestly, I haven't really changed or grown since I was eleven years old. At sixteen years old I should have more muscle mass and be more fit, especially considering the lifestyle I have, but I don't. Instead, I remain this tiny, non-threatening looking girl who was always sick as a child - I'm still ill an unusually large amount of time throughout the year to this day - and looks like a good wind would blow me over, or even carry me away with it.

I quickly realize that they're talking about another possible hunt a few states over. Bobby's busy asking Dean if he and Sam needed our help or if we could go ahead and head back home to South Dakota. I shake my head at him discreetly, but he ignores me. Resisting the instinct to huff and stomp my feet like a child, I turn away from the table. I really don't want to go back home yet. While I love everything from the salvage yard to my bedroom, I sometimes feel trapped. As soon as I settle down at home for a well-deserved break the feeling overwhelms me. By nature, I am an adventurous person. I long to feel the wind and sun on my face. I crave the adrenaline rush I get when I'm driving or on a hunt and I love going new places and meeting all the people there.

Ever since I was young I knew that I was meant to be a hunter, it just came naturally to me. The first time I ever picked up a gun was when I was eight years old. Dean had pulled me aside for my first official lesson, and within an hour he had me shooting nearly perfectly. It had been natural for me. Less than two months later they started me in on the other various weapons and items we use almost every day. I was 10 when they finally succumbed to my pleading to join them on a hunt. It had been a simple salt and burn, but that night ended up being one of the most exciting of my short life. By my eleventh birthday, I was allowed to join in on nearly every hunt that Bobby helped the boys with.

I plop myself down on the couch, taking in the sight of my adoptive family surrounding the table. If I had to choose the best moment of my life, it would be the very second that Bobby had found me, and decided to keep me. The older hunter doesn't like telling the story often- he always got mad when he thought about someone leaving their daughter as mine had- but I sometimes managed to get him to say to me. Bobby had been on a hunt a little over twelve years ago, he always changes up what he was hunting at the time - I honestly think the old man just doesn't remember- but it always ends the same. He had been patrolling the area where the monster, whatever the damn thing was, had been making it kills when he came across me. Later the doctors determined me to be nearly four years old, but Bobby insisted I didn't look to be more than two. I had somehow dragged myself into the relative safety of a hollowed out tree trunk. I only remember flashes of those few very critical hours, a few glimpses of what must have been doctors and little snippets of conversation. To this day I still don't remember how I had gotten there and, more importantly, who my parents were.

When Bobby had first found me, everyone thought he would end up putting me into a local orphanage and declaring his job done. There was nothing that made him responsible for me, and any other person would have dumped me off and call themselves a hero for shoving yet another kid into the cruel reality that orphans go through. However Bobby didn't do that; instead he made the one decision that I will forever be grateful for. He fought for four and a half months until CPS let him adopt me. The very day the papers were signed, he brought me home to South Dakota.

Within another month, I met Sam and Dean, and almost immediately formed a bond with them. By the time that I turned five, I had declared the three hunters my family and the next eleven years were ones filled with happy memories. I very vaguely remember John, he never really interested me beyond the fact that he was the boy's father, and the few memories I have of him are basically seeing him blackout drunk on the couch or with him at Sam's neck in the throes of yet another argument. However, the rest of my years were mostly unmarred by things. Sure, not all of our hunts were as successful as this one, but I always had my family right there with me. Sam and Dean are two of the most important people to me, and I share an exceptional, and unique bond with each.

With Sam, he was the person I went to when I needed a moment to be an actual human, with the ability to feel emotions and pain, instead of the stone cold hunter I've become in the last six years. He was the one I ran to when I needed to cry or panic for a moment. He also was the person that ended up teaching me how to read and write, Dean not really interested in it and Bobby becoming frustrated with my ADHD tendencies, which caused me to be unable to sit still long enough to learn; which, not surprisingly to be honest, only served to make me hyper-aware when I was on a hunt. Sam was the perfect mixture of patience and firmness that was needed to teach me. Sam is the brother that was willing to sit back and watch a movie with me or read a couple chapters of whatever novel he was reading. He never felt the need to rush after each and every hunt that popped up, knowing the benefits of taking a break every now and then.

Alternatively, Dean is very much a mother hen when it comes to me. He always fusses over me, in his gruff- and definitely manly- way. He is, surprisingly, the one to insist I eat healthily and always makes sure I'm correctly taking care of myself. While he is not as willing to accept that I am a girl, thus I have "chick flick moments," as Sam is but when needed he does put aside his pride. Dean's also the one that taught me everything I needed to know about being a hunter. That doesn't mean he lets me run after every monster that crosses my path. If there's anyone that can keep me, and Sam, in line it's Dean.

Then, there's Bobby. The man I look up to as my father. While I never really got into the habit of calling him 'Dad' or openly referring to him being that, it was obvious to anyone that met us who he was to me. We just revolve around each other in a way that only a father and daughter can. My relationship with him is as easy, and natural, as breathing air. We work very well each other, not just on a hunt, but in everyday life as well. I quickly proved my talent in the kitchen, one of the few I have besides hunting, and just as quickly figured out all of his favorite dishes. In turn, he made it his goal to figure out every single one of my passions and hobbies. When he realized I loved art, everything from painting to scrapbooking, he begins to buy me various sets of art supplies. When he found out that I really wanted to play the piano, he searched and searched until he found a baby grand two states over in some second-hand music shop. I'm not very good at it, but he lets me play for hours on that old piano. Bobby is one of those people whose actions speak louder than his words, and he's also one of those people that turn out to be really nice once you give him a chance. Within the first few years of living with him, we developed our own unique pattern when doing our daily activities. That pattern has become our own special song, familiar and comforting.

I let a small smile cross my face as I pull myself back to reality. While we may seem like a strange bunch to an outsider, I've found my little niche in this world, and I'm not going to let anyone or anything tear apart this little safe haven I've found. It may have taken me twelve years to realize it, but all I need in life is my family, a car, and the freedom of a road stretching for miles ahead of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is done! I hope you guys enjoyed reading it and if you have any ideas or want to take me up on my offer to beta learn or co-write some of our stuff leave a comment, I'll be happy to talk with you guys! Again, I apologize for any grammatical or spelling erros that I might have missed, but I hope overall you guys liked this chapter, considering I have worked very hard on it. See you all next chapter XD.  
> -Daz :)


	3. The Start of Something Terrible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLLOOOO READERS!! This is Daz here with yet another chapter. Now, I know I just posted last night and on Monday but don't get used to it! I do have a life, unfortunately, and a job -which let's be honest, I only have so I can get money- so I can't write every single night. I promise over breaks and stuff I will be posting as much as I can, but during the school year posts will most likely fall on weekends. However, I might post one than more chapter tonight, and I'm definitely going to write some this weekend when I'm not working that is. Anyways, I'm back with the third chapter of Battle of the Beginning, which I've spent the last four hours writing and editing. I hope you guys enjoy and, as always, comments are welcome. Now, ON WITH THE STORY!!!!!  
> -Daz :)
> 
> Special Notes:  
> italicized words = emphasized words  
> italicized phrases = thoughts or feelings of the 'narrator.'  
> Bold = dream sequences  
> italicized and bold = flashbacks
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from SPN

The following weeks seemed to fly by, everything blurring into a mass of hunts and days spent back at home in South Dakota.

The days slowly began to get shorter and shorter as we moved into fall, steadily heading towards winter. I spent most of my days locked up in my room drawing and reading, and when I wasn't doing that, I spent my time staring out the window, watching the scenery change, slowly, but surely.

By the time September begin to turn into October, I was thoroughly fed up with being stuck in the house. It was early fall, I had only been home for about two weeks at this point, yet I was beginning to get cabin fever.

Even though I knew Bobby wouldn't ever allow it, I itched to hunt. I honestly didn't see why the old man had an issue with me taking on a hunt by myself. Even if it was a small one!

I mean Dean was only a year older when John sent him out on his first hunt alone. Even if turning seventeen was sort of 'rite of passage' for hunters -seventeen was the age that hunters considered to be an 'adult'- why shouldn't I be allowed to hunt as the boys did? I had just as much experience as any of them, and I've proven that I'm strong enough, and smart enough, to handle just about any monster out there.

I considered going downstairs and mentioning the possible hunt I had found in the papers. From what I can tell, some sort of 'bear-like creature' -as the eyewitnesses described it- had been attacking hikers in a small town about an hour and a half drive from here, and that's if you obeyed all the driving laws.

I wasn't able to dwell too much on that thought because seconds later the sound of a ringing phone drifted up the stairs.

I hop off my bed and exit my room, thumping down the stairs and turning into the kitchen in time to see Bobby slowly hanging up the phone.

"Who was it?" The question is tossed out as I absentmindedly pick up an apple and bite into it. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sweet taste, before focusing back on my adoptive father.

"Dean." he says softly before looking up at me with a somber look on his face.

For a moment, I feel panic well up, as my mind ran through a million possibilities why Bobby was looking like that.

"What's wrong? Are they okay?" I ask, my worry bleeding into my voice and Bobby nods for a moment before pausing and then shaking his head.

"Well they are _physically_ ," he says, and my worry increases tenfold

"What do you mean _physically_ , what's wrong with them? Do we need to help them? Did something go wrong?" My flurry of questions is met with silence before suddenly the older hunter seems to gather himself.

"Faith _listen_ to me for a moment; the boys are fine. When I said physically I meant they aren't hurt or in danger. However, they aren't really okay _emotionally_."

"What happened?" I ask quietly, and for a moment, Bobby doesn't say anything.

Then he steels himself and meets my eyes.

"John's dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAND THAT'S THE END OF CHAPTER THREE!! I didn't think it would be this short, but I guess things happen for a reason. I'm going to work on chapter four, but I can't promise I'll be able to post it tonight. I hoped you enjoyed the chapter!  
> -Daz :)


	4. Time Passing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized words = emphasized words  
> Italicized phrases = thoughts/feelings of the 'narrator'  
> …………………..….. = breaks in time or thought process  
> Enjoy Chapter 4!  
> -Daz :)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPN or anything pertaining to it

The death of John Winchester had been a shock to all of us.

 

Now, don't get me wrong, I never really bonded with the man, he's not one for that sort of thing, but I did, and still do, have a measure of respect for him.

 

I guess that he was just so _good_ at his job that I honestly believed that he wouldn't ever end up dead. I mean, the only thing I will say is that it took a _demon_ to actually bring him down.

 

If anything, I feel sorry for Sam and Dean. They, no matter how much they deny it, loved John. It hurt something awful as I watch them slowly fall apart as the months passed.

 

Months slowly passed, the days blending together in a monotonous blur, and then, in the late spring of 2007, our lives were thrown upside down.

 

Dean had called us in a panic late a night going on and on about how Sam had literally just up and disappeared into thin air. I don't think Bobby and I had ever gotten our stuff into the car so fast. Within fifteen minutes we were out the door and racing towards the location Dean had sent us.

 

The next day or so was one of the worst of my life, we searched high and low for Sam but found nothing. It wasn't until the late hours of the night that we got something, all of our trackings led us to an old, seemingly abandoned, town.

 

What tipped us off was the dead bodies.

 

We searched and searched until, finally, we spotted Sam. Dean called his name, and we set off the met him down the street.

 

For a split second everything was okay, and then it all went wrong. Out of nowhere the man appeared behind Sam and thrust a knife right through his abdomen. All three of us took off, Dean and I stopping right in front of Sam and Bobby continuing in pursuit of the other guy.

 

I watched, horrified, as Sam slumped down into Dean's arms. Dean was in a panic, struggling to stem the flow all the while talking and reassuring Sam that it was going to be okay. Seconds seemed to drag on as Sam gasped for air and I spent my time looking around for anything, I didn't care what, just _something_ , to help us stop the bleeding.

 

I saw the moment that the life drained from Sam's eyes. I saw, and heard, the moment that Dean realized it as well. Pain and loss filled me and tears pricked at my eyes as I looked down at Dean clutching his brother's lifeless body to him.

 

Sam Winchester was dead.

.....................................................................................................................

Less than a day later, Sam was alive again. But, the consequences of his return would prove to be monumental.

 

Blind in his pain and sorrow, Dean did the one thing that every hunter knew better than even _consider_ doing.

 

He made a deal with a demon.

 

However, it wasn't the usual "I'll give you your wish in exchange for your soul- usually collected after about ten years."  This deal was far more devastating.

 

Sam _was_ revived, healthy and whole, and Dean _did_ give up his soul. The difference? Instead of ten, or even five years, Dean had one.

 

One measly year.

 

We had a single year left with him, all because of the boys' stupid need to sacrifice themselves for each other. All because these boys couldn't just let each other go.

 

I was beyond furious with him, but I understood in a strange way.

 

Still, within days after finding out about Dean's deal, Sam and I flung ourselves into researching a way to break it.

 

Months passed, and we found nothing.

 

Then, one day Sam showed up with a woman named Ruby. I wouldn't have an issue with this usually, far too used to Dean picking up random chicks in just about every town, but I found it hard to get over the fact that Ruby wasn't _human_. She was a demon.

 

I never liked demons, our experiences with Azazel enough to last a lifetime. But here I was, a few months after Dean made his deal, I was working with, you guessed it, a demon. How ironic.

 

For a while, everything was fine.

 

Then, the dreams started.

 

It wasn't much at first — just little flashes of what could be memories. Glimpses at things long forgotten, or maybe non-existent to begin with.

 

Being a hunter, dreams are nothing to mess around with. There were too many fuglies out there that could induce them, not to mention the existence of Azazel's 'special children' as well as the, far less menacing, stories of prophets to God.

 

Not that I actively believed that there _was_ a God. It was just hard to deny that if there were demons than the stories of the Bible must hold _some_ sort of truth.

Then, one day in the weeks leading up to Christmas time, I had the..... pleasure of speaking to Ruby one on one.

 

I don't know how she found out about my dreams but all of the sudden she became highly interested in me. She would question me on what they were about, which I never told her, or how often they happened, which, again, I never told her.

 

When I asked why she was so interested in my dreams and me, in general, she had just grinned, in an admittedly terrifying way, and shrugged.

 

"You'll understand how special you are very soon." was all she said, before she turned away, crossing to room to, instead, hang over Sam.

 

I shrugged it off at first. Demons were notorious for spreading lies and such in an attempt to allow fear and anger to fester. I took everything ever said by Ruby, and any other demon for that matter, with a grain of salt. I assumed she was trying to freak me out or make me question my sanity or something.

 

However, as weeks went and the intensity of the dreams grew, I began to wonder if what she said held some truth, and that maybe she knew more than she let on.

 

The dreams came nearly every night, plaguing me with visions of faceless people and indistinguishable voices. Scenes filled with buildings and places, all so familiar yet foreign to me.

 

As the days inched steadily closer to Dean's deadline, I found myself distracted more than not by these dreams. However, when it came down to it, I somehow managed to summon enough concentration to help in our efforts to break Dean's deal.

 

I still remember how that final day went.

 

We worked feverishly for hours, bringing Ruby in hopes that she could pull some sort of, for lack of better word, miracle out of nothing. However, her words warning that it was too late proved to be true.

 

As the final minutes ticked past, I found myself locked in a room with Bobby. On the other side of the doors, the snarls and howls of hellhounds were chillingly close and oh so vivid.

 

It was silent for a moment and then a terrible scream emitted from the room that Sam and Dean had disappeared into. It was a sound that would haunt me for months.

 

The screams and cries went on and on, mingling with the growls and snarls of the hellhounds.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

 

A few moments later there was a blinding flash of white light and then... nothing.

.....................................................................................................................

The day that followed Dean's death would stay with me for a very long time.

 

I will always vividly remember the sight that had greeted me when I entered that room. Sam, hunched sobbing over the mangled and broken body of one of the strongest men I had ever known.

 

The funeral wasn't anything special. The only thing strange was that Sam refused to salt and burn Dean's body, instead opting to bury him, marking his grave with a simple cross.

 

Sam disappeared after that, and I mean literally disappeared. It was as if he dropped off the map. Bobby gave up on finding him about two weeks after the last Winchester drove off in his brothers' car.

 

In the days that followed, Bobby became unbearably suffocating. Usually, I wouldn't mind it; I would even be pleased since it wasn't common for the older hunter to show affection.

 

However, my dreams had doubled in intensity following Dean's death, becoming more and more vivid with each passing day.

 

I spent most of my time curled up in my bed, the curtains drawn to block out any light, struggling to squash the pounding headaches and body pains that wracked me following these dreams.

 

Finally, it all became too much for me.

 

It all started with a phone call.

 

A hunter called Bobby, begging for his help is a case of some sorts a few states over. I had shrugged when asked if I would be okay by myself, Bobby still reluctant to let me anywhere close to any monster right now.

 

Bobby left early the next morning, leaving me to my own devices for the first time in nearly a month. I spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly around the house and scrap yard, not really focusing on much.

 

I don't know exactly when it happened. One moment, I was sitting on my bed watching the sun sink towards the horizon, the next I was standing in a line waiting to get on a bus, a duffel bag and backpack secured to my upper body. I don't remember what happened in between, all I remember was the overpowering _need_ to get away.

 

So, it was in the early evening of a day somewhere in mid-June that I boarded a bus and left behind South Dakota, and with it, my life as I knew it.

 

If I had known what lied in store for me, I honestly don't know if I would have made the same decision.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed Chapter 4 of Battle of the Beginning. I'll see you guys next chapter!  
> -Daz :)


	5. Reunion and Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized words = emphasized words  
> Italicized phrases = thoughts/feelings of the 'narrator'  
> .......................... = break in time or thought processs  
> Enjoy Chapter 4  
> -Daz :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own SPN. I do not own anything pertaining to SPN (Though that would be awesome)

In the end, it was the dreams that drove me back to Bobby. Dean's revival wasn't that much of a surprise to me. In the last three and a half months I had several dreams that Dean always seemed the appear in. It wasn't until my dreams started coming true that I began to pay attention.

 

It started with little things. At one point I dreamt about an attempted robbery at a dinner that I was eating in. Two days later, I found myself in the middle of the said robbery. Everything was the same down to the very last detail: the same building, the same conversation, the same people.

 

Then I seemed to _know_ what someone was thinking without them ever saying it. On one occasion I accidentally finished a strangers sentence to me - he had accidentally knocked me over and was profusely apologizing- down to the very last word. The man had given me a strange look before walking away.

 

I learned not to speak to many people after that.

 

Anyways, a nearly seventeen-year-old girl like myself was bound to draw some attention, no matter how mature or capable I was.

 

I began to seek out Bobby and Sam when the dreams started to take a nasty turn. One in particular always stood out to me, and it was the reason I finally decided to track down my family; even though the dream never ended well.

 

It always started the same and ended the same, and I would always wake up in sweat-soaked sheets a scream trembling on the tip of my tongue.

 

However, this time it was real.

 

I find myself standing next to Bobby and Dean; my gun clutched in one hand. Outside the wind is howling something terrible and the very structure of the building seems to shake and sway with it.

 

I fear that the old, rotting wood will collapse in on us. However, before I can let that thought run wild, I force myself to focus on the task at hand.

 

It had taken us two hours to lay out the plethora of weapons behind us and paint the sigils covering every inch of the warehouse; including the ceiling, floors, and walls.

 

I inhale slowly, urging my heart rate to slow along with my breathing. Beside me, Bobby and Dean are clutching their weapons tightly, eyes scanning every inch of the decaying warehouse.

 

Out of the blue, the wind seems to intensify as the window high above our heads shatter, and the lights flicker on and off. Bobby and Dean bend over to shield their heads, but I simply stand there, a feeling of dread filling me to the brim.

 

then the lights shatter along with the window and doors to the warehouse bang open.

 

The man that strides looks normal on the outside but just like in my dream, he is so _obviously_ different to me, and _only_ to me.

 

Instinctively my brain tells me to look away, that the pure light emanating from this man will cause unbelievable damage to my eyes. However, I continue to look at this man; he pauses for only a moment on the edge of the sigils. Then, to the shock of my two companions -but not so much me- he strides right through them.

 

This is where things always go to shit in my dream. It is evident that this is the being that pulled Dean out of Hell - the absolute _power_ leaking off of him is enough evidence of that- and it's is even more apparent that it is _Dean_ that he's here for. However, within three seconds his attention shifts from my adoptive brother to me.

 

The man stops and stares straight at me -his eyes are just a captivating as they had been in my dream. Blue and full of endless knowledge and wisdom. In that moment of hesitance, Dean lunges forward and sinks the knife in his hand into the strange man’s chest.

 

It hardly fazes the being -because honestly, that's what I should be calling him... it.... whatever they identify as- who pulls the blade out and throws it to the side.

 

However, before the being can take one more step in my direction, another man appears in the doorway. Beside me, Dean curses and Bobby begins to mutter something under his breath.

 

Faintly I feel hands on my arm, trying to pull me back. The new man -this one has dark skin and equally dark eyes- starts for me.

 

When Bobby starts for him, he waves his hand slamming the older hunter into the wall. Dean calls his name and rushes across the floor to the unconscious man.

I'm still in shock. While I guessed that there was something different about me, it wasn't the same as Sam. My dreams are nothing like his. Sure, they are premonitions, but everything that I see has something to do with me. Sometimes, the dreams I have seem to be almost memories, things just out of my reach. However, it never occurred to me that I would find myself face to face with this particular nightmare- which in all honestly was what it was.

 

This is always the point where I wake up, the dark-skinned man pushes the other man out of the way and reaches for me. I feel hands wrap around my arms- and then I wake up. However, this time I don't wake up. This is one hundred percent real.

 

However, what happens next is not what I was expecting.

 

One minute I was starting up into nearly black irises, fear and confusion thrumming through me. The next, I am jerked around to look into golden eyes before being practically crushed against the body of whoever currently had me in their grasp.

 

Immediately my stomach lurches as the feeling of flight consumes me. The warehouse winks out of sight, and the last thing I hear is Dean desperately calling out my name.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I hope you enjoyed Chapter 5 of Battle of the Beginning! I'll see you all next chapter!  
> -Daz :)


	6. A Past Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized words = emphasized words  
> Italicized phrases = thoughts/feelings of the narrator  
> …………….. = break in time 
> 
> Just a fair warning, this chapter is quite a bit longer than some of the others. Enjoy!  
> -Daz :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN (I think the last 5 chapters have made this clear but I was told I have to do these so here you go) I do not own SPN nor do I own anything that pertains to the show.

Sometime in between leaving the warehouse and appearing to wherever I am now, I passed out. When I wake up, I'm lying in a strangely comfortable bed and starting up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

 

The room is silent as I slowly and cautiously sit up, the blankets falling in a mess of folds around my legs and waist. I can see faint tendrils of light streaming through the curtains covering the single window within the room.

 

With the speed of a snail, I slip out of the covers, feet silently landing on the warm carpet covering the floor. I pause for a moment, enjoying the luxurious feeling of the expensive fabric on my feet before I shake myself out of my momentary stupor.

 

Practically holding my breath, I pad across the floor -the carpet doing an excellent job of muffling my footsteps- and carefully open the ornate door. I peek out into the hallway and find nothing out of the ordinary. If there is anything strange about this place is that one, I'm here in it, and two, it is so ornately and extensively decorated.

 

Taking a deep breath, I step out into the hallway, my hold body practically shaking. I keep my back to the wall, letting my well-tuned eyes scan over every detail of the corridor, then I listen carefully for any signs of danger. When I'm satisfied that, for the moment, I'm alone, I stealthily creep down the hallway.

 

Seconds tick by torturously slow as I walk through hallways after hallway, each one seeming to become more and more expensive looking as I go. Windows pass by me, and I take a risky chance by peeking out one of them, tensing when the curtains scrap obnoxiously along the metal supports. When no more sounds arise from behind or around me, I turn back to the window and take in the scenery around me, and it honestly took my breath away.

 

I stare out at what seems to be a vast field. In the distance, I can see a forest and even farther, what might be the beginning of some mountains. A beautiful misty fog covers everything and overall the color scheme is filled with browns, oranges, yellows, and dark reds. Ignoring the simple beauty of the outside world, I turn my eyes to the sky. I groan when I see that the sun is beginning to set already and that it obviously will be nighttime within the next twenty or thirty minutes.

 

I quickly turn back around and pick a random direction to start walking in, hoping that I would find my way out of this maze of a place. Before long, the faint streams of sunlight that were guiding my way fade, leaving me in liquid like darkness. My breathing speeds up as I stumble through the dark, my hunter instincts going haywire.

 

I was in the dark, in an undoubtedly dangerous situation. I have no idea who brought me here or where they are, and I have no means to defend myself let alone find my way back to a town where I can call the others for help.

 

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity of suffocating darkness, I spot the flickering of light up ahead. I sped up my pace, but remain cautious as I approach the light. It is coming from the doorway of a room, and once I peek around the corner, I determine that it is a library and that it is _not_ empty.

 

The light I saw turns out to be a fire flickering almost merrily in the fireplace dominating the far left side of the room. Bookshelves take over the other three walls, massive floor to ceiling length shelves packed tightly with books. Along with these two primary characteristics, there is a scattering of armchairs, tables -with their own sets of chairs- and couches. However, what really catches my attention is the man sitting in the largest chair -a huge, armchair with a side table next to it- positioned right next to the fire.

 

I cautiously examine him, using the shadows of the hallways to my advantage as the man's chair is positioned to face directly at my current location.

 

The man is relatively young looking with dark blonde hair. He's a bit on the small side, but there is unmistakable strength lurking just under the skin, and not just in the form of muscles. His face, though tilted down, is angled but still smooth enough to be inviting, almost enticing. For a moment, I let myself stand there, struggling to come to terms with what I need to do.

 

No matter how much I deny it, this man saved my life. While he may have his on notorious intentions, he prevented those other two men from getting their mitts on me, and it was apparent that their plans with me were less than pure.

 

However, before I can dwell on it for too long, the choice is entirely taken out of my hands. Out of the blue, the man's eyes flicker up and lock with mine. Once again I am met with the nearly hypnotizing eyes staring back at me. For a few seconds, I look into whiskey-colored eyes before they suddenly flash a brilliant gold.

 

We stare at each other for a moment before he carefully places the book down on the side table. For a split second I consider running, but before I could react, he was suddenly in front of me.

 

I jolt, moving to stumble backwards, but warm fingers wrap around my wrist and stop my impromptu attempt at escape. His eyes are whiskey colored again and are filled with a mixture of caution, concern, and, if I'm not being deceived, _longing_

 

Before I can react, I am being drawn through the doorway and across the floor towards the fire. Warmth cascades over me, chasing away the chill I had not even been aware of, as he pushes me down into the other armchair -positioned directly across from the one he had been occupying a few moments beforehand.

He sits back down, and we fall into a somewhat awkward silence. Finally, I gather the courage to speak.

"Where am I." I internally beat myself upside the head at how timid I sound, but the man does not seem to mind at all. Instead, he smiles slightly, _pleased_ that I decided to speak.

 

"You are in a safe house of mine, I have been living here for quite some time," he says, and damn it if his voice is as refined as, well, _he_ is. This man screams high class to me for some reason, but there was something that had been bothering me since I laid eyes on him.

 

For some reason, he struck a bell deep inside me. He was familiar in more ways than one. One one hand I feel like I've seen him somewhere within the last few years, but on the other hand, there was something about him that resonated on a deeper level with me.

 

"Who are you?" I finally say, deciding that maybe I will be able to glean some answers from whatever he says.

 

"I... am many things," he says after a pause, and for the first time -surprisingly- a flash of anger passes through me.

 

"You practically abduct me from my family, drag me to the middle of who knows where and you refuse to give me straight answers?!" I ground out, glaring at this suddenly infuriating man.

 

He snorts, rolling his eyes and leaning back. "Family." he mutters to himself before he fixes me with a look "Sweetheart," I balk at the sudden endearment, not really expecting something from my captor "those hunters are _not_ your family. They are stubborn, selfish, and stupidly irrational _humans_."

 

That's when it hits me. I finally remember, on one level, where I have seen this man, or at least heard of him.

 

Your that Trickster that shoved Sam and Dean into the mystery spot ." I say, not even forming it as a question, just a simple statement of a fact. He pauses for a moment, before inclining his head.

 

"That's _part_ of who I am, yes." he concedes, turning his head to gaze intently into the flickering fire.

"What do you mean _part_ of who you are," I say scathingly

 

For a moment he does not say anything, instead opting to stare into the throbbing flames within the fireplace. Then, he turns his eyes on me -this time a startling mixture of amber and gold- and offers me a smile.

 

"I am many things D-..... Faith, many of which you wouldn't remember or even care to know." he fixes me with an appraising gaze, seeming to stare straight into my very core. It's quite unnerving, and I subconsciously curl in on myself to protect me from his piercing gaze. I ponder on his slip up when saying my name, wondering what he was about to say, before dismissing it.

 

"Alright, asshole. I think I have a _right_ to know who you are, who you _really_ are. I don't want some alias or cover up, because it's quite obvious that you are not just a Trickster. You have to much power for that. So spill."

 

He seems surprised by my audacity, and honestly so am I. Taking an attitude with a creature this strong, one that has the powers of an extremely powerful pagan god -and possibly more- is a stupid move. However, I find myself not caring after a few seconds. I want, no _need_ to many answers to be able to be courteous about this.

 

Instead of immediately beginning to talk, he settles back and appraises me again. However, this time there is a considering look to his gaze, almost as if he's making a judgment on me. I am about to start ranting again, irritated with is lack of answer giving, when he suddenly speaks up.

 

"Gabriel."

 

I blink at him, startled silent for a split second. That name resounds with me, strikes something deep within the most inner parts of my being.

 

"What?" I finally stutter out, still a bit off balance from his sudden decision to start talking.

 

"My name, my real name, is Gabriel," he says.

 

"Gabriel...." I mutter, and it suddenly clicks in my head. "Gabriel..... as in the _Archangel_ Gabriel?"

 

He grins and settles into his chair fully. "Got it in one kiddo."

 

I sit there in stunned silence for endless seconds, my mouth opening and closing wordlessly. I finally manage to snap myself out of it and shake my head.

 

"No. No that's impossible. Angels don't exist." I manage to say, still reeling from this new information. Anger flares within me when the asshole dares to start _laughing_ at me.

 

"Sweetheart do you really think that monsters, let alone _demons_ would exist if there weren't angels or a God for that matter. Something made everything and that something is a God, not just a God at that, but _the_ God. Archangels, hence me, were just the first of His creations."

 

I feel as if the world had been thrown upside down. I couldn't wrap my head around the things that this man was telling me. I mean, I guess it would make sense that if there were demons and monsters, that angels, that God, would exist. However, the thought that this man standing in front of me, is an actual angel, and not just an angel but an Archangel, was too much for me to process.

 

"No, no you are lying. You are just playing some sick joke on me." I mutter, pressing my forehead into my head as a sudden headache starts to form. Suddenly, everything is just too _much_. The flickering of the flames hurts my eyes and head and the silence and darkness filling the rest of the room is too intense, to suffocating.

 

"Why would you think I'm lying to you?" Gabriel says quietly, and I look up just slightly to see his eyes flash with something _more_ than just anger "I have no reason to lie to you, that much should be obvious after all these years _sister_."

 

I can barely concentrate on what he is saying because I am currently preoccupied with the sharp screeching resounding in my head. The wordless sound gets louder and louder, filling up my head with the terrible noise. Suddenly, it just becomes way too much, and I find myself tipping forward, the ground rushing up to meet my face.

 

The last thing in consciously aware of is the gentle, yet strong, hands catching me and the screeching that persists within my tortured mind.

.....................................................................................................................……………………..…………………………………………………

I am stuck in some sort of in-between state for the longest time. Only a few minutes after I had passed out I resurfaced, but I wasn't entirely in control of my body. I was stuck in a state of sleep paralysis, unable to open my eyes or even move, but completely aware of what was going around behind me

 

Gentle hands had scooped me up, and I was overtaken by the familiar, and slightly soothing, feeling of movement. Before I knew it, I was being placed on a soft surface and covered with something even softer.

 

 _A bed_ I think to myself groggily as I struggle to open my eyes up.

 

I shift, panicking slightly when the hands move away. I felt as if I was left alone I would float away into the darkness, float away and never be able to come back. Stuck forever in this terrible state, unable to move or do anything.  However, before I could panic too much, cold hands smooth back my hair, and a soft voice hushes me.

 

I tense when the hand begins to warm up, quickly reaching an uncomfortable temperature. Not enough to burn me but not exactly comforting, like standing too close to a fire. However, I can't focus too much on the heat as I suddenly feel _something_ poke into my head.

 

It's like an entity or power is trying to worm its way into my defense, and subconsciously I lash out at it -faintly I wonder how I managed to attack something with my head, or even how I was aware that it was there- causing it to recoil for a split second.  Then it was back; it seemed to beat steadily on the defenses around a part of my brain.

 

Over the last few weeks, I had come to realize that I am actually aware of what's going on in my head, and the heads of others. I had become aware that there were walls of sorts sheiling off things that I didn't want to mess with. If there was a block there, then there must be a reason why it was there.

 

It was almost like those cases of people sort of 'forgetting' traumatic experiences. Their brains had created a shield to protect the person from whatever horrors they wanted to forget.

 

Subconsciously, I knew that that's what was going on in my head. There were things I apparently shouldn't remember and this damned entity, or whatever it was, is currently trying to break down those protections.

 

I grapple with it for a moment, the constant bashing becoming painful in a strange way. I whine softly, finally able to shift my arm enough to bat at the hand pressing against my brow.

 

I force my eyes open, looking up into golden irises in confusion. I manage to muster a glare to shot at Gabriel, as I struggle to form words with my noncooperative mouth.

 

"I'm sorry Dazzie," he mutters quietly, and I am hit with a myriad of conflicting emotions.

 

On one hand, that name is just so strangely _familiar_ , and it strikes something that had been buried deep within me. On the other, I am being bombarded with confusion and irritation because that is _not_ my name, and why the hell was he saying sorry to me?

 

The power emitting from his hands- because that's where everything was starting from- concentrates and with one last push, the walls shatter, and I am bombarded with a whirlwind of memories and voices. I feel that power plunge straight into my core, breaking through all the walls and filling me to the brim, melding within the fabrics of what makes up my being. 

 

I cry out, the pain in my head intensifying drastically, and within moments I find myself losing consciousness once more.

.....................................................................................................................……………………..…………………………………………………

Memory after memory flashes by me, very similar to the dreams I have been having over the last several weeks. However, it now becomes clear to me that those dreams were actually long-buried memories.

 

The first few are really only impressions of colors and voices, but they quickly evolve into full out memories filled with flashes of laughter, sunlight, beautiful gardens, and people.

 

All the same people at first. Four boys, all of which look drastically different but no less beautiful.

 

The eldest of the group, from what I can discern, is tall and characterized by fair skin, dark blue eyes, and dark, perfectly styled locks of hair. The second oldest is a bit smaller than the first and has sandy blonde hair and icy blue eyes which sometimes changes to red. His skin is even paler than the first, and he seems to emit cold, while the first seems to give off an excess of heat. The third is the most obviously different of the four. As tall as the eldest one with dark brown skin with equally dark eyes. The last one is the smallest of the group, only a few inches taller than me with golden hair and eyes. He's the most mischievous of the group, besides the other blonde who seems to have a certain air of mischief about him. The other two, the eldest and the dark-skinned one, are the most regal of the four, overwhelmingly calm and controlled of everything.

 

However, it really isn't their appearance, or their personality, that gets me, but rather the wings. All of them have six each, but they all vary in color. The eldest has pure white wings which seem to shimmer with some sort of luminescence. The second has red wings, the darkest feathers being on the far insides and each set getting lighter and lighter until they are almost crimson. The third has dark blue ones that seem to shift and shine like water itself. The last one has brilliant golden wings to match his eyes and hair. The wings all are huge, bigger than even a fully grown man.

 

Then there is my own current state. I seem to have woken up in the body of another girl, though she seems to be strangely very much like myself. Light brown hair with little streaks of gold and darker brown and brilliant green eyes with specks of gold concentrated around the pupils. There is nothing overly special about her, even her wings aren't as impressive, or beautiful, as the other four. They are drastically smaller and a strange purple color with little specks of white scattered about.

 

Dazzielle.

 

That was her name, and as each memory flits by, I soon learn the names of the others.

 

Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel.

 

Suddenly it all makes sense. The dreams I had been having were all centered around these four beings. But why I was dreaming about the four fabled Archangels, some of the most powerful entities to have ever existed is beyond me.

 

Still, I resign myself to watch as more and more memories flash by. More people come, none of them as brilliant as the four Archangels but still memorable to my awestruck mind. I watch as Dazzielle grows older and older, but she doesn't ever really _grow._ She remains tiny, her wings unadmirable, and her strength diminished. I feel her pain as sharply as it is my own as she listens to the rumors that the other angels, her _siblings_ , pass around.

 

Each emotion that passes through her I feel as keenly as if it were what I was feeling. Anger and jealousy towards her older siblings, longing to be as powerful and admired as them. Bitterness towards an absent father and towards scorning younger siblings. Hurt and betrayal as she watched her two eldest brother tear into each other and as one of them falls into the pits of Hell; just as had been told in the Bible itself.

 

However, as each little thing passes in front of me, I realize that I wasn't just a random bystander being forced to watch this. These memories, these feelings, these realities are my own.

 

In one moment of absolute clarity, everything that I have questioned over the last several years is answered.

 

I'm not just a hunter, and I'm not just the little girl that was abandoned all those years ago. I'm not even human.

 

It was with grim certainty that I determine that I am no longer a simple human strung along on the path of destiny; I was an Archangel who had abandoned Heaven just as Lucifer had fallen from it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoyed Chapter Six! See ya'll next chapter!


	7. A Long Forgotten Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Even if I wish I do, I do not have any rights nor do I own SPN.

I was immediately aware of the soreness in my body as I slowly gained consciousness once more. It was quite severe, leading me to wonder just how long I had been out for. As I slowly rose out of the dream induced coma I had been stuck in; my other senses began to return to me.

 

It started with touch; it was as if I could feel every single stitch within the sheets and blankets encasing me. I am aware of every little movement because I am also aware of anything and everything touching my body. I am even more in tune with my pain, but it wasn’t more intense regarding sensitivity or actual pain level. It was more that I could feel where each pinpoint of pain started, where my body was most sore, and I am consciously able to follow the path it took as it radiated through the rest of my muscles. There is also a heaviness present on my back, weighing me down into what was obviously a bed of some sort.

 

Hearing came next. I was immediately aware of the crackle and pop of fire on wood. The sound was so vivid, so real, that I could practically imagine what it would look like within my head. I can see the flames slowly consume each branch with its destructive touch, eating away at the once sturdy wood. I also could hear the sound of someone breathing; the sound so whisper soft I’m surprised I can hear it. The quiet, even breathing was accompanied by the occasional sound of a turning page. Along with all of this, there was also a strange fluttering sound, like moth wings brushing against a surface.

 

Smell follows hearing, and it was strange because I can smell _more_ within the air than I usually would. The smell of burning wood was stronger and more layered like I am able to detect the actual _life_ within the wood burning away. There was also the fresh, slightly sweet, smell lingering within the sheets and blankets wrapped around my prone body. Then there was the actual scent that remained within the air surrounding me, a whole mix of different scents that were more than just single thing. They gave off the impression of something more complex.

 

Following smell is taste strangely enough. You’d think I wouldn’t be able to discern any sort of flavor, but it was quite the opposite. I can distinctly taste the staleness in the air, the dust molecules suddenly seeming to have a taste in my mouth. I resist the urge to spit because it’s revolting and extremely overwhelming to my still adjusting body.

 

Finally, _finally_ , I am able to force my eyes open, the gift of sight becoming mine once more. I slowly drag my eyes across the room, taking in everything far quicker than was usually possible. I can see the flickering flames within the fireplace a few feet from the end of the bed, creating strange shadows along the walls and ceiling. I look above me and watch as an ornate, and quite old looking fan, swirls lazily through the air, stirring up the dust molecules. Each little molecule is seen in razor-sharp detail by my new, seemingly superhuman eyes. I watch, in quiet rapture, as each tiny particle drifted down before being caught up in a gust of moving air, swirling away in a unique dance. I quickly realize that I am in the same room I woke up in earlier, the only thing different was that I am no longer alone. I slowly glance over to my left, taking in the man sitting next to me. Gabriel had settled himself in a chair and quite obviously hadn’t moved for quite some time- I’m able to discern this because I could _see_ the tension in his muscles from sitting in one position for such an extended amount of time. How long, I’m not quite sure. He held a book in his hand, explaining the sounds of page turning I had heard just a few seconds ago, and wore a pair of reading glasses.

 

For a moment, I hold my position and watch him silently, wondering if I should pretend to be sleeping. However he, once again, takes that decision right out of my hands.

 

“I noticed the moment you woke up,” he says quietly, not even bothering to look up from his book. I huff, slightly irritated all of the sudden before it suddenly drains out of me as I glance down at the bed.

 

There, stretched out along the expensive sheets are six medium-sized wings, all of them a deep purple color. I stare at them in shock before I snap out of it and everything I had learned while in my dream coma comes crashing down on me. For a moment I feel as if I can’t breathe, the enormity of this knowledge, of knowing the truth of who - of _what_ \- I am, just too much to handle all at once.

 

I don’t realize I’m panicking, until suddenly a pair of cool hands grab my face, forcing me to look up into warm dark gold eyes.

 

“Hey, it’s okay kiddo. Just take some deep breaths. You're okay; everything's fine.” he says soothingly, his voice strangely like a balm to my panic, instantly settling my breathing and hysteria. Once I began to calm down, he offered a small smile, before his voice washes over me once more. “That’s it; you're doing great. Just calm down. I’m going to answer any questions you have, but first, you have to calm down.”

 

It took a few minutes, and embarrassingly a lot of coxing on Gabriel’s part, to get me totally calm, and it was only until he knew that I was okay before Gabriel released me and settled back in his chair. It takes me a moment to settle myself comfortably, still struggling to get used to the feeling of having wings. When I manage to position them correctly I turn to look at him. He nodded, obviously pleased for some strange reason, and then began talking.

 

“Now, I know that you probably have relieved quite a few things while you were sleeping, so you're bound to have questions. I will answer them, and then we are going to discuss what’s going to happen after this. Okay?”

 

I mull this over in my head for a moment, wondering what he planned to do after this was settled, but eventually nodded. I certainly do have quite a few questions.

 

“ Am I really an Archangel?” I blurt out because that’s the biggest issue that’s had been weighing on my brain for the last several minutes. Gabriel seemed to have expected this question, and his face lost the lines of concern - which I was still quite confused about, considering I barely know this man- and smoothed out into something calmer, more serene.

 

“Yes,” he finally says, his voice careful as he thought through each word he said, “You were the last of us born, there are five in all if you haven’t picked up on that yet, born after me.”

 

That’s when one particular fact occurs to me. Earlier he had told me that he was the Archangel Gabriel, which made him my…….

 

“Brother, you're my brother.”

 

He paused then, a look of confusion passing over his face before it smoothed out. “I’m guessing that didn’t connect in your head when you were dreaming,” he says quietly, and I slowly nod.

 

For a moment all we did was sit there in silence, staring at each other — me in contemplation and him in patience as he waited for me to process everything.

 

“It’s still fuzzy” I finally mumble out, resting my head in my palms “Every time I really concentrate on something, anything, it slips away. The only thing I vividly remember is how…. how _angry_ I was…..” I trail off, closing my eyes and concentrating.

 

“That’s all of our faults.” Gabriel says, and I’m surprised to hear a mournful, almost guilty, note to his voice “When you were born it was obvious that you were, well, _different_ from the rest of us. Even from me” I frown as it slowly came back to me, but choose to stay silent as he continued. “Until you were born I was the smallest, but not necessarily the weakest. No matter what I always have been able to match up to the others closely, but you… you were so tiny and fragile. You had no interest in training or fighting, even though we are meant to be leaders and fighters. You would spend long hours in the Garden doing things that the rest of us never were able to find time to do.

 

He suddenly falls silent choosing instead to stare at me for a minute, and I suddenly could see, underneath the initial warmth and mischievousness present in his gaze, there was pain and regret swimming there, hidden deep within golden irises. I settle back and silently urge him on. He seems hesitant for a moment before he settles himself as well, preparing what was obviously going to be a long spiel.

 

“I remember the moment that you were born,” he starts, his eyes straying to look within the flames of the fire, burning away endlessly in its stone prison. “I had been the youngest for so long and, for me, it was my final induction into ‘adulthood’ so to say. Father only made another Archangel once the previous one was fully grown. In angel terms anyways. This changed when the other angels were being created of course. Still, your creation was a semblance of many things; you were the first one actually born within Heaven. Father and the four of us original Archangels had all worked together to put it together piece by piece. You were the start of a new era: the beginning of a great battle, all foretold by our Father."

 

“It was immediately evident that you were different from the rest of us. We were warriors. All Archangels were created to play the roles of Generals and leaders. At least that's what was expected of us."

 

"We all had other jobs, of course. Raphael was also known to be a great healer; he created various new ways of medicine that also somehow managed to find it's way into the heads of humanity. Michael was expected to basically find a way to raise the rest of the new angels. Lucifer was also known as the Angel of Music. He was the Light of Heaven, the beautiful Morningstar. Until he Fell, that is. As for myself, I am the Messenger of God. I also was the Angel of Justice. However, we were also expected to be the perfect soldiers. Undyingly loyal to God and subservient to his every command. We were the examples. When Lucifer rebelled against Father when he asked us to love Humanity more than him, he was cast down. "

 

Gabriel's voice cracks here, filling with emotion for a split second before being pushed away.

 

"The day he Fell was the day that Heaven changed for good. The Light that used to fill it was Lucifer, and without him there it became dull and almost lifeless. Michael was overcome with grief, and Raphael started spiraling into madness. I left, and soon after, so did you. Heaven was practically sentenced to doom the moment that Father ordered Michael to throw Lucifer down, and later, into the Cage."

 

Despite the gloomy words and the dark atmosphere of the room, Gabriel managed to crack a smile. He looked up at me something akin to pride glittering in his ever-changing eyes.

 

"Yes, we were soldiers. We were the perfect children up until Lucifer's rebellion. We listened to everything that was commanded of us and fulfilled what was seen to be the more important duties. Then there was you. You weren't a soldier nor a leader for the growing Host. You were a daydreamer. Always off imagining something that was obviously grand to your still young mind. Dancing and singing in the Garden. Spending hours reading and writing in the library. You never were cut out for the battle training or the planning. You never liked having to take control of a Garrison or fight other creatures. You were also smaller and significantly more fragile and had less control of, well, everything. But did we love you. You were the light that shone brightly through even the darkest of times. The only one of any of the Host that outshone you was Lucifer. He was, of course, the Morningstar. The Light of Heaven, but you….. you were _our_ light.“

 

I sit stock still in perfect silence, afraid that any movement or sound on my part will break the spell and this flicker of a man, so achingly familiar in a distant way, would disappear back into that mask that I had first been greeted with just hours beforehand. He pauses for a slight second, licking his lips in a strangely human way before continuing, his voice smooth like honey.

 

"I guess I never really saw how much you were hurting until after Lucifer Fell. I was so wrapped up in Heaven's problems that I basically fed you to the wolves. You never really fit into the standards that were forced onto you from creation. The Host held an extreme disdain towards you. Scorning your lack of leadership skills or your perceived weaknesses when compared to our brothers and me. I was blind, and so were our older brothers. We ostracized you to prevent any sort of conflict with the rest of the Host. We needed them to listen to us and they wouldn't if we always had you around, if we showed obvious favoritism or even affection towards you. The perceived dark stain to their biased eyes."

 

"Then, Lucifer Fell, and I had my first existential crisis so to say. It was only then that  I saw how angry you were, how much hurt you felt from our rejection and the overall dislike the Host held for you. I saw myself in you during those last months. How much you differed from the rest. I was the rebellious one until Lucifer decided to throw history’s biggest temper tantrum. The difference with me was, they saw how powerful and important I was to Heaven, Father never got around to telling you _exactly_ what your purpose was. To every other angel, you were worthless. They didn't see how important you could be like I did.”

 

"Sure, the others loved us. They loved us dearly and it pained them to do what they did to you, just as it pained me. Lucifer was by far my favorite older sibling. Which should be obvious considering he was the one that raised me. However, out of all of our siblings, I was closest to you. You were _my_ fledgling; I raised you like Lucifer raised Raphael and me and like Michael raised Lucifer. The last time I spoke to you, things were said that I doubt you remember, but I regret terribly. When I ran away, I thought I was leaving my troubles behind me. I tore a hole in myself and filled it with pagan magic to hide away. I was a coward."

 

"When I heard that you had left as well, Fallen and disappeared into thin air, I was devastated. I was also terrified of what would become of you, but it was all pointless wasn’t it?” He turns away from the fire and fixes me with a warm smile “You survived all these years by yourself and then you settled right in with Bobby Singer and those Winchester boys and became a hunter. You found your own way, even if you had to leave behind your family to do it.”

 

He lapsed into silence, and I could see the brooding look on his face in the flickering firelight, I let him be for a moment before starting up my own stream of questions.

 

“How have I not noticed this… whatever this is before now?” I vaguely gesture to myself, struggling to find a way to explain it.

 

“You mean the strange power that seems to be living within you? The fact that all of your senses, though already sharp from hunting, are even stronger than should be possible? That would be your Grace. It’s what makes us angels, and Archangels are significantly stronger than normal angels. Your Grace most likely compacted in on itself, basically went into hibernation so to say, to prevent you from burning through your mortal shell. I knew you must have originally taken a vessel at one point, “but what’s truly strange is that this body,” he gestures towards me, and my blood runs cold as I await his explanation _Am I really possessing some poor girl? Did I take her away from her family?_  “Is completely yours.”

 

I pause, not comprehending for a moment before it slowly dawns on me. “There was never another… soul in my…. this... body?” I stutter out, struggling to find the right words. He doesn’t mind however and instead nods before explaining.

 

“Somehow, and this _should_ be impossible, you managed to be born within your own mortal shell. Your Grace was nonexistent until very recently, somehow shutting itself off to avoid harm, and you have created your very own body. The only reason Raphael recognized you is that something has triggered your Grace into reawakening. You will eventually burn through this body and take on your True form. Which I now suspect will be much stronger than any of us ever expected.” he falls into quiet muttering, musing about something, while I sit there in shock all the information rattling around in my head.

 

“Has this ever happened before?” I finally ask shakily, and the only answer I get is a shake of a head and more nearly silent mutters.

 

I groan to myself, irritated with his lack of explanation,  and all of the sudden I’m hit with a wave of exhaustion. Gabriel seems to notice this and rises from his chair.

 

“I’ll let you get some rest; your Grace needs time to adjust and renew itself. I’ll bring you some food in a few hours,” he says softly before he just suddenly wasn't there. The only sign of his presence was a few stray feathers that fluttered gently towards the ground.

 

Acting on instinct, I reach out and catch them neatly in my hands, subconsciously doing so in a way that wouldn’t crumple the feathers. They are a brilliant gold in color with some pure white streaks in it and are unbelievably soft. There is also a strong, and strangely familiar, smell emitting from them, and I barely stop myself from lifting them closer to inhale that scent. Instead, I place them carefully on the nightstand and collapse back on the sheets, my strange exhaustion becoming too much to ignore.

 

Strangely enough, I relax almost instantly feeling unnaturally safe here in this room, letting the bed cradle me and carry me gently off into oblivion. I watch sleepily as the shadows from the slowly dying fire play delicately across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes and patterns. The last thing I remember before dropping off once more into dreamland was hearing the door creak open and seeing a flash of golden eyes peeking through the door, keeping a protective watch over as I finally fall into dark oblivion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I'll try to get out the next chapter asap!  
> -Daz :)


	8. Realizations and Conflict (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am back with another chapter. Now, I will warn you -though I am not sorry about it- that this chapter is extremely long. When I wrote it out onto my alternative writing site it ended up being about nine pages long, and this is only part one of this specific "idea" I had for this chapter. If I had continued it would have been a lot longer. I'll try to get the other half of this chapter out as soon as possible, but in the meantime enjoy chapter eight! If ya'll have any questions please feel free to message me or leave a comment below!  
> -Daz :) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own nor will I ever own anything from SPN.

The next time I woke up everything wasn't as intense as it was before. My overexcited senses seemed to have calmed slightly, or maybe I was body and brain were slowly adjusting to everything. I sit up slowly, expecting to be hit with another round or vertigo but thankfully my head remained clear and my vision unaffected.

 

I get up slowly and cross over to the window to the right of the bed I previously had occupied. A glance out the window, followed closely by a bit of sharp pain and hissing as the sudden light invaded my still sensitive eyes, told me that it was morning time now. From what I could tell -once my eyes stopped burning and the pounding in my head dispersed- it was close to ten maybe eleven.

 

Strangely enough, I found that I was ravenous, even if a few hours ago even the thought of food made my stomach turn violently. Filing that away for later observation, I look around the room for something new to wear.

 

While my clothes weren't dirty per se, I still hated wearing things more than one, at most two or three, days in a row. Anyways, I was cold all of a sudden -which is also strange considering I was boiling hot when I woke up for the first time. After a few minutes of looking, I give up and decide to ask Gabriel if he knew where I could find clothes if I could even find him anywhere in the maze of a home.

 

I step out in the hallway and then pause, looking first left and then right. I pull up my memories from the last time I was out here to the forefront, mentally tracing the path I had taken. After a few moments, I turn right and then head straight down the hallways.

 

Minutes tick by as I carefully retrace my steps to the library I had first encountered Gabriel in. Once I am there peek in, hoping to see him in there. When the room turns out to be empty I continue on, hoping that eventually, I would run into him, or anyone to be honest, so I could get something to eat and possibly a shower.

 

Several more minutes slip away as I wonder the hallways, pausing here or there to examine various rooms and artifacts scattered through the corridors. A part of me that had been long buried reared its head. The curiosity that had once been the bane of my existence - due to the trouble it had gotten me into in the past- urged me to explore every room at length. Who _knows_ what I could find here. However, I pushed that niggling urge aside and continued on my way, methodically keeping track of where I was going in case I need to retrace my steps.

 

Just as I was about to give up hope and head back to my room, though even with my expert tracing skills I doubt I'd be able to find, a voice sounds from behind me.

 

"There you are," Gabriel calls cheerfully, causing me to whirl around with a mixture of relief and momentary terror coursing through me. "I was wondering where you ran off to."

For some reason, I have a strong urge to pout or say something snarky back, as I have a feeling that he was teasing me in some way. Faintly memories of events similar to this run through my head, but I shake them away, not wishing to get sucked back into whatever coma I had been in up until last night.

 

"It's not my fault this place is so big! Anyone would get lost in here." I snap, crossing my arms over my chest like some sort of petulant child. A wave of confusion filled me as I wondered at my reasons for acting this childish. Usually, I was more mature than many of the other adults I have known or met.

 

Gabriel chucked amusedly and motioned for me to follow him. "I'm guessing you're hungry," he says teasingly, though not unkindly, and-while also resisting the urge to pout- I nod. He smiles and once and motions for me to follow as he turns and heads down a little side hallway I hadn't noticed before.

 

Less than two minutes pass before I'm being led into a huge kitchen. There is a large pantry off to the side and another door, which leads down into a storage cellar from the looks of it, directly next to it. A large double oven takes up the middle of the wall directly across from me, and there is more counter space than I've seen in many restaurants. A little breakfast nook sits off to the side with a small table and a set of chairs. There also is a large island sitting in the middle of the room with a row of barstools sitting in front of it. In the middle of the far side of this lies an electric stove.

 

I stand there for a moment slacked jawed wondering just how precious this guy was when it hits me. _Duh, angel_ I think to myself. He can conjure up whatever he wants when he wants it. Still, this is the most obvious, so of grandeur, I've ever seen, at least on Earth. Once again a flow of old, slightly faded memories fills me, reminding me of the beautify and grandeur of Heaven. However, I once again push them aside and focus on the here and now. All of the memories and knowledge that was rising would have to be sorted through once I was alone.

Gabriel lets me take everything in for a moment before crossing over to the refrigerator that I had missed. It sits in the far right corner and is far larger than anything I have ever seen in a home. I follow him and pause a few feet away just as he yanks open the doors. Once again my jaw goes slack as I take in the unnecessary amount of food within the refrigerator. It's enough to feed every person back home with Bobby.

 

A pang of longing shoots through me when the old hunter momentarily enters my head, but before I could dwell on it too long, I practically shove it into a box in my head labeled "DO NOT OPEN." The last thing I need is to dwell on him _or_ the boys.

 

"I was under the impression that Angels don't eat." I quip, but that causes me to pause as I remember just how hungry I was when I woke up. "Speaking of that, why am I hungry anyway?" I ask slowly, subconsciously accepting the apple that Gabriel tossed at me as he gathered various other food items and transferred them to the counter.

 

Despite my question I still bite into the apple, barely refraining from practically moaning when my teeth bite into crispy flesh, and the sweet flavor fills my mouth, momentarily silencing the ravenous state of my body.

 

"Well," Gabriel says, busying himself by turning on the stove and filling the slowly warming skillets with some bacon and eggs "it's true that ordinary angels don't really have a need for food, or any sort of normal human functions; such as sleep, for that matter. However, that's mostly because there isn't really a large chance of them burning out."

 

"What does that mean?" I interrupt, taking another bite of my apple, before promptly flushing at the rudeness I just displayed. It seems all of my behaviors that I have become accustomed to, have been flung out the window. However, Gabriel doesn't seem to be bothered by my interruption, instead pleased that I have questions.

 

"Well, burning out refers to two things actually. One example is the power of our Grace actually starts to feed off of the life force of a human and eventually burns their soul out. Sometimes our power is too much for their more fragile souls and bodies to handle. The other example is basically when an Angel uses too much of their energy and is reduced to barely more than a human strength wise. This is when sleeping and, depending on the severity, eating becomes necessary to re-energize our Grace."

 

He lets me soak this in, passing the few minutes by crossing back to the fridge and pulling out some milk and a few cartons of fruit. As soon as I processed this information -I can't really call it new considering I had known all of this at one point- I nodded for him to continue.

 

"Now, the difference between Archangels and, well, pretty much all other angels, is we burn off a sheer amount of power and energy. We are extremely strong, and we can do things that no other being, save for God and one or two others, can even dream of accomplishing. However, the downside to this is due to this power we also can drain ourselves very quickly. Being an Archangel is an honor and a huge responsibility, but it also can be hazardous. We are more vulnerable, though we never show it, to burning out and even getting forms of Grace sickness, which basically is when our Grace becomes tainted or overly weakened from overuse. So, you will sometimes see myself or other Archangels doing something considered strictly human, such as sleeping or eating. Which is absolutely absurd because the alternative is not something that anyone wants to experience."

 

"In your case, your Grace has been reestablished after such an extended amount of time being locked away. The enormous amount of power that bombarded you when it started emerging was enough to send you into a Grace induced coma, and once you woke up the intensity of your newly established powers and strength was enough to send you back under for another several hours. Then, once you woke up, your vessel immediately informed you it was hungry. It's sort of like quelling the flames of a fire. You have to feed it enough to satisfy it but not too much to the point that it gets out of control or even weakens you further. You subconsciously sent yourself into that coma for as long as your Grace would allow you before allowing being forced to resurface. If you had been awake and not conserving energy, you would have burned out, and it actually could have ended up killing you or causing serious damage."

 

It takes me several minutes to process everything and still I couldn't find the proper words to sum up how I was feeling. On one hand, I was amazed at how much power I must actually have if I was forced to actually sleep through it to stay unharmed. On the other it terrified me that this power actually could have killed me, still could if I understand everything right, due to the threat of burning out.

 

"So, what do I do? To prevent burning out I mean." I finally say, barely able to focus as a plate filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and mixed fruit suddenly appears before me.

 

"Well first, you are going to eat at least two, preferably three, plates of whatever I give you until you have enough energy. You will not do anything overly strenuous and, unless you are sleeping or doing something for your own health, I want you with me so I can keep an eye on your condition. The last thing I need is for you overdoing it or not taking care of yourself and ending up hurting yourself more than you already have."

 

As he finishes, he nudges the plate closer to me and sets some silverware down a few inches away. For a moment, our eyes lock, and I consider putting up a fight just to save some dignity. I wasn't some child he could boss around! However, a more substantial part of me knew that injury or death, especially death, wasn't worth trying to prove my will and strength.

 

With that decision made, I pick up a fork and dig into the food in front of me, my hunger making itself known again. Before I know it the plate is completely empty of everything, down to the last crumb, and another plate is placed before me. To my surprise, and Gabriel's obvious glee, I down not three, but five plates of food before that hunger is finally squashed.

 

As soon as I am full, and Gabriel is satisfied that I truly am, there is a snap, and everything is suddenly spotless. All the dishes are cleaned and put away, and the food is simply not on the counter. I look around in confusion before fixing Gabriel with a look bordering on awe. He shrugs and offers me a small, slightly mischievous, grin.

 

"How.... what...." I sputter, still reeling from the obvious display of power and Gabriel falls into a fit of laughter.

 

"I am Archangel kiddo, I kinda can do things like that," he says as soon as he calms down enough to do so. I huff and look away, a bright blush staining my face. It seems everything I do is some form of entertainment for him.

 

"Hey," he says, his voice suddenly very quiet, gentle, yet strong, fingers grasp my chin, and I am forced to look up into warm eyes. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just been a while since I've seen you. I've forgotten how much I loved being around you, you always did the funniest, and cutest, things."

 

I grumble to myself, jerking my chin away before fixing him with a halfhearted glare because, to be honest, it was strangely hard to stay angry at him when he does things like that. "I'm _not_ cute, nor do I _do_ cute things. I am _not_ a child, so stop treating me as such." I say with enough heat to my words to hopefully get my point across.

 

For a moment he sits there with this dumbfounded look on his face before he chuckles and ruffles my hair. "You honestly don't remember much do you?" he says amusedly, leaning down to rest his elbows on the count, chin landing in in hands, all the while regarding me with this aggravatingly _paternal_ look.

 

I turn away with a huff, not wanting to give in but after a few minutes my curiosity becomes too much to handle, and it exploded in a burst of words that I couldn't stop -something Dean would have called my 'word vomiting" habit, which is something I long ago had abandoned. "What do you mean? I think I remember quite a bit considering everything, and don't hit me with that "you're to young" shit, from what I understand I'm just as old as you are." Gabriel laughed, slightly surprised by my outburst, shaking his head.

"What I _mean_ is you don't remember just how much older you actually are, nor how long it actually takes an Archangel to mature."

 

I frown at him, not quite understanding what he was saying, but I didn't have to wait long for an explanation.

 

"Look, Michael was created eons before humanity was created, and a significant amount of time before even Lucifer was created. It takes a really (Italicize) long time for an Archangel to mature. However, that doesn't necessarily relate to our mental age, so to say, but rather the maturity and growth of our Grace. One thing you have to remember is an Archangel's Grace is a magnificent thing. It's pure, unadulterated power, made from the very foundations of our universe. We _are_ parts of the universe if you think about it if we were to be killed things would fundamentally change within the structure of everything. Our Grace is also so powerful, as I mentioned earlier, but it's not always that way. Our Grace forms over long, and we also mature and grow at the same pace. You were created shortly before the Creator made Humanity, I had was barely fully matured at that point, and I had been alive for several thousand years. Archangels develop _really_ slowly, as to prevent the sheer power of our Grace and our abilities to overwhelm us to quickly. When you Fell, I actually wouldn't put you above, physically and even mentally, the age of nine or ten years old. I was still caring for you, though I did a shit job of it."

 

The last sentence was said with a tinge of loathing, and I could physically feel the anger and regret rolling of Gabriel before it suddenly disappeared, the wall being shoved back into place. I take a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking.

 

"So what your saying is I was basically at the developmental stage of an older child," I mutter, and he nods.

 

"Your Grace is so out of whack right now that it's going to start trying to force you to develop a bit faster to make up for lost time." He hesitates for a minute before barreling on, and I get the feeling that I won't like what he says next "If you were to go back to Heaven as soon as the pace of growth goes back to normal, you still would actually be developmentally younger than any other angel, though you were stronger than every other angel even once they were fully grown."

 

"I don't understand? How can I be older than them but still not be more developed?" I mutter, and Gabriel sighs.

 

"It's because you grew abnormally slow, even for an Archangel. That's one of the reasons you were so ridiculed. At the age, you were when you Fell any of the other four of us would have been about the equivalent of a fifteen or sixteen your old. Everyone believed that you would basically stop developing your Grace and you would simply be stuck in that stage for the rest of eternity. "

 

"It actually worried us when you were younger, we feared you wouldn't ever be strong enough to defend for yourself, but those fears were misplaced. No one else saw how strong you were because you had such an aversion to displaying your power. They only saw the other side of you. The side that searched for a peaceful answer instead of using the irrational strength and bullheadedness that Michael or Lucifer were so fond of. While you did have a mischievous streak, you typically were quite calm, unlike someone like me who would create elaborate pranks or come up with some quite comical, and devious, battle strategies. Though you weren't calm enough or logical enough to measure up to Raphael, you still rebelled quite a bit and had your own curiosity that lead you into quite a bit of trouble."

 

I couldn't help but smile as I remember some specific times, even in my human life, that I got myself into some trouble due to my overactive imagination and my rampant curiosity.

 

"What about now?" I ask quietly "How "old" would you rate me" Gabriel studied me for a moment, and I watched, slightly worried and freaked out, as his eyes glazed somewhat, a strange glowing sheen overtaking them.

 

"Currently your Grace is working towards the age of a young adult, about sixteen or seventeen. I actually think that by the time it slows whatever development you have will be done with. You'll end up fully grown and will be considered an "adult" angel."

 

I frown, shaking my head slightly. All of these strange rules and ideas were mind-boggling. It's crazy to think that I once knew and understood all of this.

 

"Angels are strange," I mutter under my breath, and Gabriel huffed a laugh and nodded.

 

"That we are. Despite popular belief that angels and other creatures don't change or are pretty basic, we actually change quite a bit. We hold grudges, have likes and dislikes, we experience emotions and more, just like any other creature does. We're also intensely intricate within the base of our biology. We were meant to be Father's perfect creation. We are the perfected version of Humans but we are are far from the image that was originally imagined for us. Humans may be flawed and full of sin, but Angels are far from holy. We can, and will, do terrible things for the sake of the Host."

 

We lapse into silence, each lost in our own thoughts, and I got so deep into mine that I didn't notice it when he moved. So it actually startled me when his hands land on my knees, causing me to jump, my eyes flashing up to meet his. A sudden burst of energy and raw _power_ fills me and light flares, while a strange static sound filled the room.

 

It was all-consuming and utterly terrifying as it swept me up. It felt like every one of my nerve endings was aflame with this power, everything filling my head far too quickly, and far too intensely. I want to cry out, fight against it, do something, but I can't. Suddenly, a pair of hands grasps my face and a new, though achingly familiar, presence presses into me. It fills my entire being with its warmth, the power of it, though significantly more calm and controlled, overwhelms my own sporadic one and silences it. I feel what I can only guess is my Grace collapse, submitting to the stronger presence and calming itself.

 

My eyes flash open, and I take in a gasping breath, my head still spinning from everything that just occurred. "What...was that?" I ask, still gasping for air, feeling terribly winded.

"I apologize," Gabriel says, his voice very quiet and filled with a comforting, almost cautious, tone. "I startled you and caused your Grace to react violently; subconsciously it reacted to your fear thinking there was danger. It's an instinctive reaction that takes  a lot of training and practice to control."

 

I nod, suddenly feeling very lightheaded, like I can't get enough air in even though deep down I know I shouldn't even need it. My hands migrate up to clutch at my chest, the sharp movements of my lungs trying to force air in bordering on painful. My eyes slip close, and I hunch in on myself a soft whimper forcing its way out. I feel terribly tired all of the sudden and all I want is to sleep. To leave everything behind me and to be able to relax.

 

"Hey, it's okay." a soft voice sounds, and suddenly an achingly familiar, and terribly missed, feeling of absolute comfort and safety (Italicize) fills me. That voice, so different from the ones I had heard from Gabriel before, and it pulls up memories that I had forgotten throughout my years of isolation from my home that I had forced myself to abandon, and forget.

 

Warm sunlight and sweet-scented flowers surrounding me. Laughter and talking echoing from all around. Fuzzy, but still painfully familiar, figures dance across my vision: bright eyes and huge smiles flashing at me, gentle hands ruffling my hair and cuddling me close. Golden eyes are looking down at me with such warmth and a soft voice filling my ears. It was one that I hadn't hear, or even remember, for centuries, but it was one meant only for me. One that soothed me when I was frightened or couldn't sleep. One that was there when I broke my wing the first time I tried to fly, calming me and washing away the pain as it promised to fix everything that was wrong. It was there when I was up late at night crying because two of the people most important to me couldn't stop fighting. It was there when angry voices filled the hallways, slipping into my darkened room right into a nest of soft feathers and warm blankets, smelling strongly of those I considered family. Golden eyes filled with love and compassion, promising protection and comfort. Strong arms and mighty wings shielding me from any danger, blocking out the terrible sights and sounds. Hiding me when all I wanted was to curl up and cry. Always there when I questioned why _I_ was there or why anything was worth it.

 

When I resurface from my thoughts, my cheeks are wet with tears, and my body is trembling with the body wracking sobs and choking coughs that my crying caused. A soft voice is right next to my ear, terribly familiar and wonderfully soothing as it whispers condolences before falling into soft humming. I slowly calm down, too tired to even be embarrassed about my breakdown, and nuzzle closer, feeling strangely tiny and vulnerable.

 

"It's okay Dazzie." a soft voice sounds from above me, washing over me and taking away the last traces of hurt and fear. "I got you; I'm right here. Not ever going to leave you again, you hear?" I jolt, eyes flashing open when I am jostled and I quickly realize that I'm being lifted. Instinctively my arms wrap around Gabriel's shoulders while my legs hook securely around his waist. I am momentarily terrified that he'll drop me, even though the thought that an Archangel couldn't carry a hundred ten pound teen was laughable. However, before I could try to pull away a warm weight suddenly wraps securely around me, all the while two corded arms tighten on my frail human body. I look up cautiously and inhale a sharp breath as I take in huge golden wings that practically cocoon me.

 

I am faintly aware as their moving, still feeling too off-kilter to concentrate on anything further than how strangely _caring_ Gabriel is being right now. Sure he's my brother, but from what I had heard about him from the boys (at least in his trickster form) he wasn't a very nice person. Though maybe that's just the root of it all. The person that Sam and Dean had met wasn't Gabriel. It was Loki the Trickster. Perhaps this was how my brother truly was, and he just hadn't allowed himself to be like this since he left. Whatever the reason, I'm truly too tired to worry too much over it, and I finally let my body relax, forcefully turning of my hunter side -which was currently screaming at me for allowing such a powerful, and dangerous, creature do this.

 

Before I know it I am being placed back within a now familiar bed. Hands brush back my hair and pull warm, slightly heavy, covers over my prone form. For a moment, I feel nor hear nothing then a pair of dry lips press against my temple and rest there for a moment. Just as Gabriel pulls away, I find my arms shooting up and hooking around his neck, keeping him close. "Don't go." my mouth moves on its own accord, the words relaying a hidden desire that I didn't even know I had — one that pleaded not to be left alone after so many years of isolation and loneliness.

 

There is a huff of surprise but no words are spoken and suddenly the weight on the mattress shifts, and a warm body settles next to mine. I settle down and carefully move closer, forcing my eyes open to watch Gabriel's reaction. His face is fuzzy through my heavy eyelids but I can still see a look of content present, and I allow myself to relax fully. I take warmth and comfort from the simple presence of another being. Even though I love Bobby and the boys, they really aren't the touchy-feely type. Dean denies any sort of physical contact or anything he considers "chick-flick." Sam has merely never liked to be touched, and Bobby hasn't allowed himself comfort since his wife died. So I take what I can, even though just a week ago I wouldn't have ever imagined myself here.

 

A few moments pass in silence before the humming starts up again, and this time I focus in on the melody. I don't quite recognize it, but it strikes something deep inside me. With a small sigh, I burrow deeper into the blankets and allow my body and mind to fall into slumber, and for the first time in a long time, I don't worry about what could happen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed Chapter 8! I'll have the next chapter out as soon as possible!  
> -Daz:)


	9. Realizations and Conflict (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy Chapter 9!  
> -Daz:)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spn, all rights go to original creators

It’s late evening as I surface and once again my body decides to inform me, quite loudly if I do say so myself, that it’s hungry. I grumble to myself and frown as it growls not once but twice, and my frown only deepens when I hear the soft laughter from beside me.

 

“It’s not funny,” I mutter sleepily, still trying to decide if I’m hungry enough to warrant getting up.

 

“I guess it’s time to feed you again,” Gabriel says teasingly, and I huff before wrenching open my eyes to give him a halfhearted glare.

 

“Do shut up.”

 

I sit up and shove the blankets down, ignoring Gabriel’s idiotic guffawing as I climb out of the warmth and comfort of the bed and out into the cold air of the room. I catch sight of myself in the full-length mirror, situated in the far corner next to the window, and crinkle my nose. I look bad but not as bad as I expected.

 

Strangely enough, my hair isn’t overly oily, even though it should be since I haven’t taken a shower since a day or two before I showed up to help Bobby and the boys. My skin is clear and only slightly oily. What really gets me is how well styled and non-frizzy my hair is. Usually, after a single night of sleep, my hair is akin to a rats nest. Still, I don’t smell too pleasant, though it’s strange that I can even smell myself.

 

I turn to Gabriel who is still reclined against the headboard leisurely, watching me examine myself in the mirror. There is a discarded book on the nightstand along with a pair of glasses, probably more for show than actual necessity.

 

“I need a shower,” I inform him, and he grins broadly before sitting up, folding himself into a summer salt and flipping himself off the bed to land neatly on the ground. I roll my eyes and head for the door with a huff of exasperation.

 

“Idiot,” I mutter as I walk by him and his annoyingly large grin, apparently far more proud of himself than he should be.

 

He snorts and punches me playfully in the shoulder before taking the lead. This time we go left instead of right, and he weaves through the corridors, leaving me barely enough time to try and figure out exactly how to get back to where I started.

 

He abruptly stops before pointing to a door to the right of us. “That’s my room,” he says offhandedly before he hesitates and turns to the door on the left. He opens it and steps aside seeming almost awkward, which is honestly adorable, as he waits for me to go through.

I shake my head and step through the doorway before stopping short, my mouth hanging open at the sight before me.

 

The room is enormous, far larger than the one we were just in, and lavishly decorated and furnished. The bed itself is more massive than half my room back at Sioux Falls. It has a canopy and is covered in a comforter that looks far too expensive to even be out of the casing. There is a nightstand to the left of it and vanity to the right, complete with a chair and a few containers and boxes on top. The dresser is across from the bed and up top is a huge flat screen, one of the first more modern things I’ve seen in this place beside the stuff in the kitchen. It also has a fireplace off in the corner, and the rest of the room is filled with bookcases -which is chocked full of more books than I’ve seen in a bedroom and some other empty shelves. There is another door, which I assume leads into the bathroom, but I’m more concentrated on the pure lavishness of the room I am standing in.

 

“I, uh, spent a majority of the last six days fixing this room up for you. I figured you would like this better than the other one and considering you're gonna be here for a while I wanted you to be as happy as you could be.”

 

His words give me a start, and I turn to fix him with a look “What do you mean I’m going to “be here for a while,” as strong as you are, do you really think you could force me to stay here if I didn’t want to?” I say incredibly, and he seems legitimately surprised before he turns serious, more serious than I’ve seen him thus far.

 

“Aniyah, I can’t let you go back out there. The only reason they haven’t found you yet is because of all the wards I have on this place. No other being, save me, can find this place.”

 

“Who is “they?” I ground out, a tense feeling overcoming me as I remember the man in the trench coat and the dark-skinned man I saw back at the warehouse.

 

“The Host. More specifically, Michael and Raphael. They haven’t stopped looking for either us, though more so you, since we left Heaven. I took you because the only reason they want you back is to use you for the upcoming events. I don’t want you getting hurt in the process, so I decided to bring you here.”

 

I pause for a minute before I’m hit with an irrational - and honestly confusing- bolt of anger. “You know I am capable of defending myself,” I growl out before I could stop myself, and once I got started, I was lost. “I’m sick of everyone treating me like I’m some sort of child that needs to be protected. In case you have forgotten I am an Archangel, as new as that is right now, just like you are. I don’t need you or anyone else to waste their time trying to protect me from the world. If I want to leave, I will leave. If I want to go back to Bobby and the boys, I’ll go back to Bobby and the boys. No one, not you, not Michael, not anyone else, can tell me or force me to do otherwise.”

 

You do realize how strong Michael is right?” Gabriel grounds out, obviously trying to keep himself calm while my emotions are practically bubbling under the surface, ready to explode at any second. “If he gets ahold of you there is no escape. No one, not even myself, will be able to get you out of there. He will sweep you off of Earth and lock you away in Heaven until your willing to help him, and trust me when I say he has endless patience and is infinitely stubborn. There is nothing he won’t wait for, and he does not accept defeat.”

 

I snort, rolling my eyes, the strange anger bubbling higher within me, and I can’t seem to control myself anymore. We go back and forth spewing venom at each other, and I watch as Gabriel slowly gets angrier and angrier with every word I say,  while my own unnatural rage grows stronger. It suddenly feels like I’m not myself anymore but yet, still am. I realize I must be slowly falling back into who I truly am, an Archangel with some serious issues, and with that comes the anger and hurt that I had felt only partially during my little dream spree

.

“You're just a coward! Always have been.” I finally snarl out, the worst of my anger finally bubbling over, this specific emotion stemming from the perceived abandonment that had happened when the other angels were being created. “You didn’t want your precious reputation tarnished, so you ostracized me just like all the others! When Michael and Lucifer started fighting more, you didn’t do a damn thing to stop them! When Lucifer Fell, you stood by and watched as Michael was forced to throw our brother to Earth and then to the Cage and then you left! You left when you were needed most when our brothers and I needed you to most. You ran off and left me to my isolation and the cruelness of the rest of the Host. You left Raphael to lose his sanity and Michael to his hatred for himself. You abandoned us like the coward you are.” The words are biting and terribly cruel, but I can’t stop them, they pour out of me in a torrent of hurt and rage. Gabriel is beyond livid at this point, practically shaking with the strength of the feeling and I can see his eyes beginning to glow with what I assume is his Grace.

 

“And what of you?” he finally manages to say, his voice revealing the rage he was barely holding back. “You didn’t do anything either! You left just as I did!”

 

All of the sudden the anger changed and melted away into hurt, tears pricked at my eyes and my throat closed up. “I was _hated_. No one took me seriously, they only saw me as weak and useless. I had no purpose, I wasn’t as strong as the rest of you. In the eyes of the rest of the Host, I was no better than the humans. I would only slow them down in a battle. I wasn’t good enough to lead a garrison. Even if I was stronger than all of them. Even if by my status I had the right to demand their respect, all I got were cruel words and disdain. I was the hated one until Lucifer Fell, and then you know what happened?!”

 

I barely let myself pause for a breath before I continued, my voice slowly getting more and more hysterical

 

“They started saying that I was tainted like he was! That I would turn out just like him because they _saw_ my anger. They saw how bitter I was towards them and towards Father. It didn't’ matter that I was that way because of how they treated me, how I was practically abandoned by everyone. I was supposed to by _family_ , but I was treated like I was a stain. A bane to all of your existence. I finally understood how Lucifer felt. The rage he felt towards Father, towards the Host, when he was cast out for being different. For thinking different than everyone else. It’s a damn miracle that I wasn’t cast out like he was. Though they probably would have if I had stayed any longer. I didn’t deserve that! I didn't deserve to be treated that way. All I wanted was to be accepted. I just wanted to be considered family. I wanted _love_. Is that too much to ask?!”

 

By the time I finished I was screaming, my words being broken up by body-wracking sobs. My vision was blurred by the tears, but I could see the shock there, evident on Gabriel’s face. For a second nothing happened then, he suddenly stepped forwards, reaching out for me and I snapped.

 

“Don’t touch me!” I gasp out, and then I flip around and bolt straight through the other door slamming and locking it behind me. Without really knowing what I was doing I waved my hand, feeling Grace rush to my fingertips and I could faintly sense a barrier forming, blocking Gabriel from getting in. I could hear Gabriel knocking on the door, his voice pleading with me through it, but I couldn’t really pay attention to what he was saying. I slowly slid down to the ground, tears falling faster than before, and curl up tightly, burying my face in my arms.

 

I openly sob, letting everything that was still pent up inside of me out in a torrent of burning, salty tears. I cry until my tears run out and I’m reduced to tremors and dry sobs. I’m suddenly gripped with terrible nausea, and I blindly get up and bolt for the toilet. It’s on the other side of the vast bathroom, which is actually more of a nuisance than anything else at this moment, and I barely make it before the contents of my stomach decide to make an appearance. I empty every last thing in my body, continuing even after I empty my volatile stomach, basically dissolving into dry heaving.

 

Finally, it’s over, and I slump to the ground in exhaustion. I don’t even have the energy to cry, let alone get up. My head is pounding, and everything is swirling around me in blurred shapes and colors. I whimper weakly and look towards the door. I know there is something wrong. My Grace is going haywire practically trying to beat out of me. That horrible feeling from earlier in the day is back, but this time it’s stronger. I feel myself growing weaker and weaker, the pain and my exhaustion increasing. I finally manage to gain some form of control over my Grace, and I fling it towards the door, the power leaving me as soon as I do so, I slump to the ground again as the door bursts open.

 

Gabriel appears in the doorway, and he focuses in on me. He stands there frozen for a split second before he practically bolts across the floor and hauls me into his arms. I cry out at the sudden movement but and cool hands brush over my brow.

 

“This is going to hurt.” he murmurs quietly, and I don’t even have the energy to acknowledge his words, I just lie there staring blankly past him at the ceiling, which is starting to look quite fuzzy.

I don’t have any more warning before his hands settle over my chest and a warm sensation starts up. It begins in my chest, centered right under his palms. I feel his Grace push out from his fingers and straight into my body. It spreads out, filling every corner of my being, and practically melds itself to my Grace. My Grace reacts violently, thrashing under the force of Gabriel’s and the warmth quickly turns to a intense burning sensation. It feels like I’m burning from the inside out, I scream, my body thrashing underneath his as I try to get away from the pain.

 

Finally, the pain goes away, and it fades back into that warm feeling, soothing as cool water to my blistering insides. It moves through me slowly, and I can feel it healing everything on the way chasing away the perceived darkness from my very core. It’s over quickly, and he pulls away, taking with him the overwhelming fear and regret that had filled the room the moment he had entered.

 

We sit there in silence, both of us panting for air as our bodies settle. I finally move my eyes to met his, and I can see the fear and regret that I had felt earlier swimming in the golden orbs. I open my mouth and wince as a burst of pain shoot through my throat when I try to talk. Apparently, I did some damage from all the screaming and crying. I work past it, however, managing to ignore the burning sensation, though it’s thankfully nothing compared to a few minutes ago.

 

“What did you do?”

 

He blinks and then shrugs, shifting so he can lean against the closest wall without jostling me. “I healed the damage you're Grace had done. You're still tied to this body, you will be until I help you learn to control your Grace because it’s far stronger than it was the last time I saw you. I had to neutralize your grace with mine to do so, but it fought back and thus caused all that pain.”

 

“Oh,” I say, and we lapse into silence. I stare past him up at the ceiling above, this time thankfully seen in sharp detail, for a while before I decide to speak again. “I’m sorry.”

 

His surprise and confusion are palpable in the air, I can practically taste it, but his face doesn’t change. “Why is that?” he finally asks carefully, reigning in his emotions to my relief. I might be able to feel them now, but that still doesn't make them any less overwhelming.

 

“For what I said,” I mumble, my voice surprisingly meek. I’m suddenly gripped with the fear of rejection, probably something that remained from my youth.

 

“Oh,” he says, his surprise obvious in his voice “Dazzie, you don’t have anything to apologize for. I let it get out of control. I should have known that all those remnant emotions from before you Fell would eventually come out. I just didn’t expect them to be triggered by me telling you that you had to stay here. Though I should have, you’ve always been really testy about anyone trying to protect you or insinuating that you were weak. It was something that appeared after the Host began to talk.” He looked down at me a small smile present on his face, this one seeming more real than those overly large ones that he always seemed to wear. “I’m sorry for how everything played out kiddo,” he says quietly, and I nod, returning his smile with one of my own.

 

“Now,” he says briskly, helping me to my feet. I quickly gain my balance and look at him expectantly. “Why don’t you get a shower and I’ll go down and make some dinner for us.” We can eat it in the dining room. I’ll come get you when it’s done. You’ll find towels and such in those cabinets over there, and there are some clothes for you in both the dresser and your closet right over there.” he points out each thing, and once I nod my approval he exits the bathroom, leaving me alone.

 


	10. What Is And What Is To Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry for the delay in posting. I've been super busy preparing with schooling as well as finishing up my enlistment in the military. I will be leaving for basic training on June 4, and I'm going to be trying to get as many chapters as I can posted. Right before I leave for basic I will be doing a mass post and then there will be no more posting until I get back in August. After that I will attempt to start up a schedule and keep to it. Though I don't know how well that will go with Senior year. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy chapter 10, if y'all have any comments or questions feel free to ask.  
> -Daz :)  
> (Also, this chapter is super long, just warning you guys in advance. I got a little bit carried away and decided to just keep it like this instead of splitting it up.)

Ten minutes later, I find myself sitting across my brother in the kitchen.

 

Almost as soon as I sat down, the was a plate filled to the brim with food placed in front of me. Gabriel gives a pointed look at the food -basically ordering me to eat without ever saying a word- before turning away to get us some drinks. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes,  I instead force myself to eat the food placed in front of me.

 

Gabriel returns a few moments later holding a bottle of juice and -to my utter surprise- a bottle of beer. He offers me the juice, which I dutifully take, and leans down onto the counter. I return to my eating as he pops the cap open and takes a few sips.

 

We sit in heavy, though not entirely uncomfortable, silence for a long while. The only sounds that can be heard are the periodic clicking of my fork on the glass plate and the even more sparse sound of glass thumping down on wood. Finally, I can't stand it any longer and break the silence.

 

"What exactly have you been down here all this time?"

 

My abrupt question gives Gabriel a start, though he promptly recovers from it and a contemplative look crosses over his face. For a few moments, he considers my question, the slightly oppressive silence returning. I can't help but be relieved when he answers me, once again shattering the quiet.

 

"I wandered around for a few decades, going here and there as I pleased. I joined the Pagan's eventually when the need for discreteness became necessary. I took on the identity of Loki. As you probably already know, he is also known as the Trickster. Very powerful, but not enough to draw unnecessary attention from those upstairs." he pauses for just a second, taking a deep sip from his drink. "I've spent a lot of my time fulfilling the jobs that Loki did before me. It was quite easy to be honest, considering I am _the_ Angel of Justice. I dished out some punishment, taught some lessons, and you can't blame me if I had some fun messing around with various people. I also traveled a lot, I've seen more of Earth than I can explain."

 

He looks up at me and flashes one of those all too familiar crooked smiles. It's a quirk he had when we were younger, and from the looks of it, something he retained all this time. "What about you? Do you remember anything of your time down here."

 

I nod slowly, swirling my fork through the last few dregs of food on my plate. I remember nearly everything from the moment I was created to now. Including every human life, I've ever lived. There are random blind spots, and while that's a bit odd, I simply file that little tidbit aware for further examination. Mentally I run through everything starting from my Fall. Strangely enough, I don't ever remember actually ever taking a vessel — not one. As my memory goes back, it gets harder and harder to recall details. It's more impressions and primary events that stick out in my head. Faintly I can remember waking up one day, as a human. There was no human soul with me, and there was no indication that any disturbances had happened. I lived that life as a human normally would. I died. Then it started all over again. I had decided to lock away my True self, including my power and all my memories, about two centuries before now. It had gotten too dangerous to continue as I had. I was drawing attention from both the various monsters and supernatural creatures that roamed Earth, and in turn, it caused a disturbance up in Heaven. So, I locked myself away, and I lived life after life, never remember anything once I was reborn until now.

 

I realize that I had been silent for a good few minutes, probably staring blankly at the wall just behind Gabriel. So, I shake myself out of my reverie. "I just hung around I guess. Went from place to place, staying off the radar as best as I could." I didn't want to tell him the whole truth about everything just yet mostly because I don't even understand it myself.

 

For a moment, I think that Gabriel might try to push it. It's evident that he doesn't believe that I'm telling the truth- or the whole truth- which is, regrettably, correct. Just as I was about to try to tack on a few more words, he nods once and diverts his gaze. "Okay."

 

I relax minutely, and we lapse back into silence. For several minutes the only form of communication done is when Gabriel gets me more food. The entire conversation -if it even can be called that- consisted of him giving me a pointed look and indicating my plate followed by me nodding -albeit a bit grudgingly.

 

"So, how much do you remember," he asked, and I start, having been absorbed in meticulously eating the food in front of me. I had been carefully extracting the chicken from the bone, picking it along with a small spoonful of rice up, and carefully placing it in my mouth. It was a strange thing to concentrate on, but it kept me focused enough to keep my mind from wandering too much.

 

"Everything," I state, somewhat shortly before I pause. "Well, nearly everything," I amend "there are some blanks in my memory."

 

"So..." he trails off, obviously picking his words carefully "Heaven? Lucifer?"

 

It's a vague question, but I understood what he was implicating with those two words.

 

"Yes."

 

The room takes on a solemn quality as we both sit quietly, reminiscing -quite painfully- of our brother's Fall, and the imminent failure of the order within Heaven.

 

"I tried contacting him." Gabriel suddenly says, and I give him a confused look.

 

"Contacting who?" I asked, mystified at what he was getting at.

 

"Lucifer."

 

Shock overcomes me, quick as a flash, before mellowing into something less sharp. I regard him carefully for a few moments, choosing my following words carefully.

 

"Really?" I say "I wasn't aware that was possible."

 

"Well," he says, "usually it's not. However, as you probably already know, Archangels all have a link of some sort. No matter if we cut ourselves and whatnot, we're still somehow connected. Lucifer has perfected the art of blocking any sort of contact with us, especially Michael. When I tried contacting him, I only managed to get a few impressions of what he was feeling before he cut me off."

 

I frown, absorbing this new information. I, of course, had known that it was possible to contact my Archangelic siblings. All of us had a connection from creation, and it was usually utilized to strengthen communication and teamwork when handling various problems. I had assumed that once I left, anything that connected me from Heaven, save for my Grace, would be stripped. However, now that I think about it, I might have been subconsciously blocking my brothers, or maybe, they were blocking me.

 

"He didn't say anything? Was he aware that it was you?" I ask, and Gabriel shrugs.

 

"I'm not sure if he knew it was me or not, but he didn't say anything. I just felt how _angry_ he was along with the hurt that came with being cast out. He was bitter and emotionally stunted. When Michael threw him into the Cage, something snapped. A part of Lucifer was ripped away from him, leaving behind the Devil that everyone believes him to be."

 

I nod slowly, and I am suddenly gripped with a feeling of sorrow and guilt. Lucifer had been the scapegoat of all of this. Sure, what he did wasn't right. He caused so many deaths, whether intentional or not, and the scar he left behind never healed. When he was banished to Earth, things in Heaven slowly deteriorated. Then, we realized what he was doing down on Earth; things such as, creating the first demon and bringing Death into existence to name a few. While he was wreaking havoc down on Earth, the entire Host watched as Michael finally lost control of his temper -something that I never wish to see again as long as I live. He and Lucifer faced off, and stories of their Great Battle prevailed for generations after. The battle, as many know, ended with Michael striking Lucifer down,  damning him to eternity in the Cage in the deepest pits of Hell.

 

Soon after that, Gabriel fled Heaven; and within a few fortnights, I followed.  

 

The day I left Heaven wasn't, by far, the hardest but it still was a terrible moment for me. I was leaving behind the place I had called home for so long, but if I'm honest with myself; it wasn't my home anymore. Home for me was the place where my elder brothers were. When I left, Lucifer was locked in the Cage, Gabriel was missing, Raphael was going crazy, and Michael had flung himself into his work. I had been alone for a long time at that point, but it was then that I realized that my family had been broken; probably beyond repair. So, I left. I left and spent the next millennium evading my eldest Brother and all others who searched for me. But, now I'm sitting across from one of my brothers. I have the chance to try to fix some of what had been broken, but I still didn't know how.  

 

Gabriel is leaning against the counter, his face planted within his hands. It physically pains me to see how sad he looks, the desolate expression -along with his body language- portray so many years of hurt and pain. Making a split second decision, I stand up and circle the counter. Once I stand just a mere foot away, I hesitate. Even if the worst that can happen is he rejects my attempts to reconnect, it's still terrifying and terribly hard to take that last step. I soon realize that he isn't aware that I have moved, proof that my nearly all of my abilities have returned to me. Finally, I steel myself and take one last step. My arms carefully, almost cautiously encircle him, and I lean my smaller weight into his side.

 

For a moment, nothing happens, and I fear I might have gone too far. Just as I was about to pull away, however, Gabriel shifts and warm arms encircle me, and I find myself being pulled closer. Within a split second, I go from giving an awkward side hug to my -seriously- older brother, to being nestled firmly into his side. I stand there in shock for a moment, barely aware that he is pressing his cheek into the top of my head. I finally manage to loosen my uncooperative muscles and fully relax. We stand there for a while, not really aware of time passing, just content to stand there and soak up each others company. The moment has to end eventually, however, but it ends with Gabriel pressing a small kiss to the crown of my head, and suddenly my face feels a few degrees too warm.

 

I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him as he pulls away with an amused laugh. The sparkling mischief in his eyes, coupled with that damned grin of his, is enough to settle any embarrassment or indignation at being treated as a child.

 

I grab my empty plate from the counter and go to wash it, but I am immediately halted by a hand on my arm.

 

"Oh no you don't," Gabriel says, grabbing my plate and setting a new one -filled to the brim with even _more_ food- into my empty hands. "Eat that and _then_ you can be done."

 

"But Gabriel...." I say a -admittedly exaggerated- groan following my words. All he does is fix me with a look -one that I have seen several times, and not only from him- and I turn away in favor of returning to my seat with a huff.

 

I eat the food dutifully and watch my brother as he flits here and there cleaning up the mess of dishes that he had left behind from cooking. It was an oddly domestic sight to watch, a situation that I never thought I would see one of my brothers in- especially Gabriel. Nevertheless, it provokes a sense of tranquility within me, and I find myself relaxing and enjoying the quiet moment to its fullest.

 

Soon, I clear my plate of any scrap of food and carry it over to rinse off. I roll my eyes when Gabriel plucks the plate out of my hands and takes over cleaning it, all the while shooing me out of the way.

 

"You're acting like your my mother Gabriel," I say, returning to my seat. Gabriel snorts, and suddenly I have a face full of a damp towel. I yank it off with a splutter and glare at my brothers overly amused -though slightly annoyed face.

 

"I am _not_ acting like your mother," he grumbles as he returns to meticulously cleaning off the counters- just proving my point further.

 

"Hmm, let's see," I say, not able to stop myself from teasing my brother just a bit, " you are always obsessing over how much I eat. You insist upon cleaning up after me, and making sure I, myself, am clean. You are such a worrier whenever I get hurt, sick, or tired. You're _such_ a mother hen Gabriel. You were that way with the others too, don't think I forgot about that."

 

Gabriel opens his mouth -obviously wracking his brain for a witty comeback- before shutting it with an audible snap. "Whatever," he mutters, turning back to the counter." A few minutes pass in silence before he mutters a quiet "Brat." under his breath.

 

I giggle quietly to myself, resting my arms on the cool, granite counter. Within two minutes, Gabriel is done, and he tosses his towel onto the now pristine counter.

 

"You done?" I ask, my voice lilting slightly in a playful way and Gabriel rolls his eyes.

 

"Yes smart ass, I'm done." he snarks, before walking -stomping- out of the kitchen. I follow after him, laughing heartily as we head down the hallways.

He ignores me, instead choosing to weave through hallways after hallways. Pretty soon, I am thoroughly lost, and he has yet to slow down.

 

"Hey, slow down!" I call after him, my tone now disgruntled. I am still much smaller than he is -even considering his own small stature- and it's difficult to keep up with him this way. I find myself practically jogging after him in a vain attempt to keep up. I am suddenly extremely aware that despite my own freakishly large quantity of strength and power, I am still noticeably weaker and behind in development compared to even the youngest of my elder brothers.

 

Gabriel looks behind him, an irritatingly sympathetic look crossing his face as he noticeably slows down. I huff and jog forward a bit to fall in step next to him. "Sorry," he says quietly, rubbing the back of his head. "I keep forgetting that you are so much smaller an-" he cuts himself and shoots a careful look at me.

 

I sigh, my gaze automatically dropping to my feet -a habit I had picked up throughout my years on earth. "It's fine," I mutter, though my voice has a noticeable begrudging hint in it. While I can't deny how much weaker I am, it still doesn't mean I don't hold a note of bitterness towards my predicament. "I know that you are, and probably always will be, faster, stronger, smarter, and simply better at... well..... _everything_."

 

"Hey," he says, halting for a minute and grabbing my chin. I manage to avoid looking directly into his eyes, focusing on a painting just behind his head. "Look at me," he says, and I finally lock my eyes with his. "While you may not have ever been made out for fighting and combat, you had your own things that you excelled at. You have definitely always been smarter than me. You were nearly unchallenged in when you let yourself relax enough to dance or sing. You are a phenomenal writer, and I always loved listening to you read. Not to mention some of the paintings and drawings you made when we were younger."

 

I sigh quietly, shaking my head. "You don't understand," I say, a note of sadness filling my tone. " Everything I have ever been good at, I learned from someone else. Michael taught me how to read, and he attempted to train me into a combat adviser since I obviously am useless in actual combat. Lucifer taught me how to dance and sing. Raphael taught me everything he knew about academics, and then there's you. You were the one that taught me how to write and draw. You spent the longest time trying to teach me how to fly and how to defend myself against enemies.  Everything that the lot of you have always praised me for are learned things. The only thing I was actually good at was flying, it was the only thing I seemed to be a natural at."

 

Sometime during my little rant, we had started walking again. Gabriel had grabbed my arm and starting leading me off to wherever we were going, letting me continue my little speech unimpeded.

 

"I mean, Father never actually told me what my purpose was. What I am meant to _do_ . I mean look at me." I stop and pull my arm away to gesture at myself. "Even without this mortal shell, I am nothing impressive. I have no special talents, no job, no _purpose_. I mean, Michael is Heaven's General, the Viceroy of the Host. Lucifer, the MorningStar, Light of Heaven, Lightbringer. Raphael the Great Healer. You, the Messenger of God,  Archangel of Justice, the Might of Heaven." I pause for a moment before looking down at the ground, suddenly holding back tears.

 

"And then there's me. Innocent, useless Dazzie. So weak and incompetent that I can't even fight correctly. I can't defend myself in any way. I was practically thrown aside by Father, forgotten and apparently only half made. Until Lucifer fell, I was treated like the runt of the pack, and it's strangely accurate. You know, farmers always kill off the runts of a litter because they are taking up the food that the stronger littermates, who are actually going to be useful, need. It's funny, I gleaned some of the thoughts that went through their heads, and I'm actually not surprised by them. At one point, one of them blatantly wished that I would just end up killed in a raid or something. I was only viewed as a weakness, a vulnerable liability. "

 

I break off and stop dead in the hallway again, and my tears well over, forming hot trails down my cheeks. My vision blurs, so much that I can barely see my feet on the ground, nor anything else around me. I wipe at my eyes, swiping away the tears -only for them to quickly be replaced by more. After a few more tries I give up and instead bow my head to hide the embarrassing tears.

 

I begin to walk again, passing by Gabriel -who is standing there silently, apparently shocked at how upset I am. I head down the hallways randomly, not really caring where I'm going, merely needing the small distraction from my racing thoughts. For a moment, the only sound is my harsh breathing and the soft patter of my feet. Then, another set of footsteps start up, and Gabriel appears next to me moments later.

 

I don't look up at his face, focusing instead on the rhythmic movement of our footsteps. One after the other, never faltering. A constant beat, providing me with something to ground myself. There is so much going on in my head that sometimes I am afraid that if I were to let go of what keeps me planted here, I would drift away.

 

It's a funny feeling if I'm honest with myself. It's also a bit scary to think that if I wasn't tied to this world by a body, that my consciousness might just wander on forever, lost in the ebb and flow of everything around -and within- me.

 

We walk in silence, never looking at each other. I follow him subconsciously, my feet going where he went. Falling perfectly into step with his, left then right, over and over.

 

I lose myself in the movement, putting all of my concentration into that- blocking out everything else rushing around inside me.

 

_left..... right......left ... right....turn...left...right....left...right....turn...left_

 

I mentally file away each little movement, each turn, each curve. Carefully, I broaden my concentration, and I slowly paint a map of sorts within my head. I trace the path of what I remember back to the kitchen, and then to my bedroom. It becomes easier and easier the longer I think about it. I realize that I had been subconsciously filing away each little tidbit of information -no matter how mundane- for further use.

 

I was so immersed in my own train of thought that I had -without realizing it- tuned out the sounds and goings on of everything around me. I was suddenly shaken from my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder and a concerned voice right next to my ear.

 

"Dazzielle!" Gabriel says, his voice quite loud due to my oversensitive hearing.

 

"What?" I snap out, fixing my brother with an irritated look.

 

"I thought I lost you there for a minute," he says, his voice considerably quieter now that he had my attention.

 

"I was just thinking," I mutter, slightly embarrassed over my rash outburst.

 

"I could see that," he says wryly, before continuing his steady pace.

 

"Where exactly are we going?" I ask as I pick up my pace slightly "We've been walking for a while now."

 

"Well," Gabriel says, suddenly turning into a room and heading for a set of double doors in the back. "I thought that we could go outside and work on a few things. Get you used to you Grace and whatnot."

 

"Oh." is the only thing I say, not entirely certain I'm going to like this "work" as much as I should.

 

The room we turned seemed to be a large parlor of some sort, a breakfast style table sat next to a broad picture window. Across the room sat a piano and surrounding that, a small sitting area with various couches and chairs.

 

Gabriel skirts the chairs and heads to the doors I had noticed earlier. They are large and quite ornately decorated. I pause for a minute as he grasps the handle of one of them and pulls it open.

 

Almost immediately I am swamped by the various sounds, smells, and sights that bombarded me. I groan and shield my eyes from the sudden blast of light, my sensitivity to it a bit concerning, all the while clamping down on my other senses to prevent myself from becoming too overwhelmed.

 

Gabriel is there in a heartbeat, grasping my arms in a gentle, but firm grip, providing me with the stability I needed to gather myself.

 

"Just breathe." he says quietly, "We'll do this at your pace."

 

"Why is it so intense?" I manage to say, still pressing the heels of my hands deep into my eyes. It does little to soothe the sudden spark of pain that shot through my head -and nearly every inch of my body- when I was exposed to the extreme amounts of stimuli.

 

"Well, you remember how it felt when you first woke up," he says quietly "it's like that but.... more. In there, with the windows and doors closed, there wasn't too much to stimulate your over sensitive senses. It's the reason I made sure to keep you inside and away from anything that might overwhelm your body as it adjusted. Out here, there is far more going on. Everything is vying for your attention, as it is me. But the difference between you and me is, I have had all this time to adjust myself to this. You have been human for so long, it's like being exposed to it for the first time."

 

I realize that he's absolutely right as his words sink in. Even up in Heaven, everything was more muted for me. As an angel, especially an Archangel, I was in tune with the very foundation of Heaven. What would have been dazzling to a human, was normal for me. However, down here on Earth, the opposite is true. I distinctly remember Heaven being... stagnant for the most part. Not much changed up there, and it lacked the business that was present in every part of the Earth.

 

When Father had us help him create Heaven and Earth, he had us do so with a particular plan already set in place. Heaven was made with the Angels in mind. Earth, for the Humans. Besides what was obvious, one of the most significant differences between Humans and Angels is their connection with life itself. Angels are much more susceptible to it; thus Heaven was created to mute these stimuli to protect us all from its overwhelming presence. As an Archangel, I am especially susceptible to what is around me -both living and otherwise- and I was even more sensitive to it than my brothers were if I remember correctly. Right now, each little thing vies for my attention, and if one is not trained to that, it very quickly can overwhelm.

 

Right now, after years of being disconnected from my Grace, I am out of practice. I remember when I was younger, one of the few things I excelled at -besides flying- was being able to get in touch with everything around me simultaneously. I was aware of everything around me -from the plants to the tiniest microorganism- and that came in handy. However, it had taken me years of practice to get to that level, and I had to work hard to retain that. Now, after all this time I had lost that ability and now had to start from scratch.

 

So, I called upon the little dregs of memories that I could in my current state of distress. My head was pounding, and I felt a bit dizzy, and the feeling of the thousands of consciousness pressing in on me felt claustrophobic. Still, I faintly remember one of my brothers -Raphael if I remember correctly- advice to me during my early years.

 

I carefully push Gabriel aside and step out into the dazzling sunlight beyond the door. It felt enormously good to be out in the sun again, but almost immediately the pressure that was layered over me multiplied tenfold. I groan, and after a few minutes of grappling, force it away long enough to concentrate on the task at hand.

 

I carefully sink to the grass, marveling at the intricate texture of it as it brushed against my sensitized skin. I sit cross legged, focusing my breathing into deep, controlled, breathes that forced my tight muscles to unclench one by one. Once I am completely relaxed, I slowly open my mind up to the world beyond.

 

I let only the smallest of things come to my attention. I focus on the feeling of the slight breeze on my face and the grass on my skin. I focus on the soft, yet grainy texture of the dirt as I run my fingers through it. I open my mind up to the tiny organisms that live within the soil, carrying out their seemingly simple, but highly significant, tasks in short order. I broaden my focus to a handful of worms a few feet away from me, burrowing happily through the tougher parts of the ground. I let myself wander down the tunnels of a nearby ant pile, watching as thousands upon thousands of tiny ants work tirelessly, heedless to my presence. Then I broaden even more, and I listen in on the demanding chirps of a nest of baby birds high above the ground, informing their nearby mother of their hunger. I let my consciousness spread out, slowly taking in more and more of the activity around me, ready to draw back into the safety of my own self should it prove to be too much to handle.

 

I'm not sure how long I stay like that. Reacquainting myself with skills that had been buried deep within me for so long. I find it's easier to reteach myself these things, that it seemed almost effortless now. I become aware of a new, far more complex present not far behind me. For a moment, I am confused before I realize it's just Gabriel. It was a curious thing to recognize the distinct difference between ourselves and every other being of life. We aren't as complicated as humans are, but our near simplicity is made up for by the concentration that our people possess. We are pure, unadulterated power. Angels are made up of the very things that make up the universe. Especially  Archangels.

 

Michael was created out of the fire from the fire of a young planet. Our Father had taken the very core of it and melded the first of us out of it. Lucifer was created out of the stars, but unlike Michael, he ran cold. His aliases, the Morning Star, came out of the star he was inspired by. The last star that was seen in the morning was the one that Father had chosen to create Lucifer from, and thus the Morning Star of Heaven was born. Raphael came from the very core of nature. Father had taken every aspect of Life itself to create the Healer of Heaven. Lifes rejuvenating powers were passed on to Raphael, though we later saw them deteriorate as Raphael did himself. Gabriel, on the other hand, wasn't exactly planned out as well. Father had taken everything that my brothers were and tried to make Gabriel out of it. Michael's Fire and Lucifers Ice is what makes Gabriel such a spitfire. The Wild Card. The unpredictable one. Fortunately what bit that Father took from Raphael balanced that out, though it only made his mischievous side grow.

 

Then there's me. None of my Brothers were there to witness my Creation, and Father never revealed how he had created me. This was the reason that I was considered "half-made." Many believed that Father had been displeased with the way I had turned out in the beginning and abandoned me in my less than perfect form. In their eyes, it explained my shortcomings. It explained why I was nothing like the others. For years I wanted to prove them wrong, I wanted to believe that I had a purpose, that my Father had created me different for a reason. Those hopes turned out to be nothing but childish dreams and fantasies.

 

I banish those dark thoughts and concentrate on what's going on around me. I am cut short by the feeling of another presence pressing in on my own, this time with much more force than anything else around me. After a brief moment of panic, I recognize the presence as Gabriel, and I relent, letting my brother meld his consciousness with mine. For one breathtaking moment, our Grace's meld. Twining together and practically singing with joy at the contact after so many years of isolation.

 

Grace melding was something that was quite common back in Heaven. It was a ritual that was believed necessary to prevent an Angel from losing their sanity. In a way, it's similar to a Human's need for physical contact with other people. It's a way of connecting to those close to you and releasing any tension or negativity that our Graces might have picked out. Out of this, comes Grace bondings. That ritual was usually only saved for the closest of companions. Many angels just Bonded with one other angel. The exception to this being the Archangels. It was actually our Bond that caused the widespread fear of the whole process. Grace Bonding leaves such an imprint on the very fiber of our beings that it forever changes our chemistry. A dependence grows out of it, and that can be dangerous with the life we live.

 

When Lucifer was torn from us, the damage it left behind remains even now after so many centuries. Gabriel and I had separated ourselves from each other, and from our Brothers, not only to conceal ourselves but to protect ourselves from the pain that the broken Bond left behind.

 

After years of being alone, we've become the human equivalent of "touch starved." Angels, just like humans, crave that contact but on an even more intimate level. That's a line that I'm not sure neither me or Gabriel are ready for even with the progress we've made. So, I carefully pull back; ignoring the twinge of protest my Grace sends out as I do so. I keep our minds linked though, letting a steady stream of images and feelings -rather than defined thoughts- flow between us. He joins me on the grass, and we sit there in comfortable silence, just enjoying each others company and the warmth of the sun.

 

Time passes seamlessly, seconds melting into minutes like the trickle of water over a bed of rocks. I spend the time both absorbing everything from my surrounding and working through some of my own issues that had been bothering me. There came a time where I realized that I had heard everything around me, and there was nothing left to understand. It was a peculiar thing to experience, being knowledgeable of everything that made up the space around me, and still being conscious of my own separate existence. Still, I release my concentration and return to my body in a fluid movement.

 

I open my eyes and turn my head slightly to watch my brother. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see he still has his eyes closed and seems to be immersed in his thoughts still. I carefully disconnect myself from him, shutting off the temporary connection between the two of us, and sit there in silence. I wait patiently for several more minutes, letting Gabriel come back to himself on his own. It was never smart to try to force anyone to return to 'reality' after spending so much time lost in their own head.  

 

Finally, Gabriel opens his eyes and turns to face me. For a moment we do nothing but sit there in silence, neither of us quite sure what to do. I finally take the initiative and open up my own mind, a silent offer, but it seemed to be just what he was waiting for. Before I could react, we were once again merged together, and I can suddenly feel tendrils of Grace - unsure and timid in its movements- brush up my arm. After a moment of hesitation, I release my tenacious control over my own and let it twine with my brothers.

 

I wasn't quite ready for the feeling of _wholeness_ that encompassed me, as if a hole I wasn't aware of had been filled. The feeling of another Grace on my own was a heady and terrifyingly intimate experience, something I hadn't experienced since I left behind my fledgling days. My eyes slip shut, and I bask in the feeling, letting it consume me almost totally, still being careful to keep some sort of hold on myself.

 

I can feel the exact moment that he established the bond that had been broken between us.  It happened in a burst of energy, the power and intensity of it burning deep into my core- renewing a mark that had long scabbed over. All at once I am just _aware_ of Gabriel, a part of his Grace taking up space within me.  I withdraw from him, and my suspicions are confirmed when his presence doesn't fade in the slightest.

 

"Why..." I say, my question remaining unasked as I let my voice trail off.

 

"I cut off our own bond myself, I never asked you if you wanted that. It was something I always was guilty about because we could have been reunited so much earlier if you could only contact me. Not that I was sure you were. I figured this would be the way to prove that I don't have any ulterior motives for doing all this."

 

That particular statement couldn't be more truthful. With this sort of bond, lying or even withholding information purposefully, was impossible. Anything that you thought about, anything that you subconsciously remembered or thought about, was immediately revealed to whomever you were bonded to. I am now privy to his every thought and emotion as long as I'm paying attention. There were, of course, ways to block access but it took an enormous amount of connection.

 

Honestly not knowing what to say, I sit there in silence for a few minutes mulling over this turn of events. Currently, I can feel Gabriel's every thought, memory, and emotion. He was pushing them into the link one by one, proving tenfold that his intentions were only for my own wellbeing. I finally raise my hand and pressed two fingers to his forehead, causing him to freeze in shock. I concentrate my Grace, pushing it out through my fingers and into his vessel. I seek out the core of his Grace, ready to pull back should he try to expel me, but I find no resistance. I meld my Grace deeper into his, creating my own mark and completing the bond.

 

The connection we now shared cannot be explained using any words. It was so complicated and precious that I honestly cannot express it. The closest thing I can relate it to is the bond between soulmates, but even far different from that. This was a bond that was different than a mating one, this was used between packs.

 

I am hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia and melancholy as I think back to my old pack. The original five of my family, my pack, had dwindled down to just Gabriel and I. It was a bittersweet moment to reestablish this between us, as it had once been shared between those we considered our closest family.

 

I shoot my brother a small smile and stand up, stretching my surprisingly stiff muscles and bones. Gabriel follows a moment after and he grins broadly, ruffling my hair playfully as he walked a bit further away from the house. After fixing my hair -grumbling the whole time- I follow after him for a good few hundred yards. He suddenly stops and turns to me, and that was the only warning I got before giant wings materialize behind him, catching me completely of guard.

 

While I was distracted, Gabriel suddenly moves forward, and in one second to the next, he is standing next to me. His sudden movement startles me, but I have no time to react as he places a few of his finger directly between my shoulder blades and presses down. My own wings suddenly materialize -I had quickly learned how to hide them away in an upper plane as they caused me more trouble than good- throwing me off balance momentarily.

 

My body acts on instinct, and without really realizing it I lunge forward and sweep my brother's feet out from under him before launching myself into the air. I hang there for a moment, but before I can fall back to the ground, my wings begin flapping and I quickly gain altitude.

 

Gabriel follows me moments later, quickly catching up with me. Still, mostly on autopilot, I angle my body to the side, avoiding contact by a few millimeters. The sudden movement, however, throws me out of my unaware concentration and I falter in midair, and I find myself spiraling towards the ground. Frantically, I push my wings out and manage to catch myself just feet from the ground. I am so concentrated on my lapse that I don't notice Gabriel until he grabs me from behind and quickly pins me to the ground.

 

We stare at each other for a split second before I shift underneath him giving him an expectant look. However, he doesn't move an inch; instead, he actually tightens his grip on me.

 

"Gabriel," I say with an irritated huff, "get off of me."

 

Gabriel doesn't say a word and instead seems to be waiting for something. Frustrated, I buck my body up, hoping to unbalance him. He simply shifts his weight with my movement, and I find myself pressed back into the ground, him not having moved an inch from his position.

 

"Get off of me!" I practically yell, writhing under him in anger. "Why the hell did you do that anyway? What was the purpose of forcing a fight like that?"

 

Gabriel gives me this disparaging look, obviously disappointed in my reaction for some reason.

 

"Your even worse off than I thought you were," he says, and I regard him in silence for a few minutes, confusion rolling through me in waves.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Daz, if I were an enemy what do you think would have happened the second I had you under my control? What would have happened the second you faltered in your defenses?"

 

I pause for a moment, and then the answer becomes clear to me. I flush with embarrassment. This had been a test to see if I had retained any of the training that my brothers had actually managed to pound into my head. While I was no warrior, I always could at least defend myself to an extent. My natural strength and speed, along with my various powers have always proved useful- even if it was limited compared to my siblings. Now, however, I was out of practice and had not fought to the best of my abilities. A fatal mistake no matter if you were a nearly indestructible Archangel, a human, or anything in between.

 

"You would have tried to kill me, or at least incapacitate my ability to defend myself and thus leaving me a hostage." I finally say grudgingly. "You've made your point Brother, now let me up."

 

Gabriel regards me for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I will get up once _you_ manage to get me off yourself. "

 

I stare at him incredulously.

 

"Gabriel, we both know you are much stronger and capable than I am. There is no possible way I can get you off of me in this position, I'm practically as helpless as a human child right now."

 

Gabriel snorts and rolls his eyes. "You really have forgotten everything, haven't you? What was the first thing I taught you whenever you began your training?"

 

I pause for a minute racking my brain for the answer, as it had been a long while since I was questioned on my training- as little as it was. Finally, though with a bit of hesitance, I answer.

 

"There is always a way, you just have to find it." Gabriel inclines his head to me and then waits. Realizing that he wasn't budging -literally- on this, I once again appraise my situation. Now, if this were a real enemy I would most definitely be dead by now or at least a hostage. But this was Gabriel, and he apparently has taken it upon myself to retrain me and finish what he hadn't been able to teach me.

 

I study his position on my body, and after some useless wiggling, I am suddenly struck with an idea. I hitch my leg up and wrap it around his upper thigh before flipping or positions in one fluid movement. Gabriel reacts instinctively, attempting to pull me back under him but without thinking, I dig my knees into his stomach and basically use him as a launching pad. Between one second to the next I go from being trapped in his iron grasp to being airborne. I quickly straighten my wings, and with a single flap, I flip my body around to a vertical and land in a defensive posture.  

 

Gabriel sits up and gives me an approving look. "There's hope for you after all," he says, somewhat teasingly. I roll my eyes, and relax slightly, though I keep my distance in case he decides to attack again.

 

I watch him carefully as he stands up and dusts off his clothing before crossing over to me. I don't relax any further, even after he comes to a halt in front of me. He seems unbothered by this though -if his utterly relaxed posture is anything to go by- and shoots me a wide grin.

 

"Now that you are better -somewhat- I have to continue your training with haste. It is obvious that I did an inadequate job the first time around -a mistake I will not be making again- and there is much to teach you but with little time. Even now, Michael and the Host are searching for us as they know that I was the one who took you from that warehouse. Not to mention the Apocalypse is well underway, the elder Winchester's return from Hell a sure sign of that. For now, we will practice as much as often until I am certain you can hold your own in front of even our brothers should you be caught alone with them. Still, I expect you to avoid any conflict with _any_ other angel or supernatural creature if possible. Fight when you have to, and retreat quickly. Am I understood?" He had turned utterly serious as his little speech came to a close, and in response I nod, feeling the gravity of the situation keenly now.

 

I had known the Apocalypse was coming, I had figured it out the moment I regained my true consciousness, but it still wasn't any less of a shock. The Apocalypse was _the_  battle that my Father prophesied to happen. This is the battle that has been in the making for centuries, this time my two eldest brothers will succeed in killing the other and will end with the ultimate destruction of the balance between the Light and Dark: Heaven and Hell.

 

Once I confirmed my understand, Gabriel wasted no time getting started. For hours he drilled me on anything and everything possible- and not all of it was physical training either. He quizzed me on the hierarchy of the Host, what each class of angel did, and the history of all of the domains -Heaven, Earth, and Hell. Those were all things I still knew perfectly.

 

He showed me a few flying maneuvers - some that I had never seen, and others that I had never really perfected. Once he demonstrated them a few times, he had me do them, over and over until he was satisfied that I had each maneuver down. I quickly became irritated with myself, downtrodden over my inability to complete these exercises with the same perfection as my brother.

 

He explained the differences between various plants and animals, which ones I can use when trying to complete a task and which ones are for medical purposes, and others that should be avoided. I did better at that, efficiently cataloging the new information for future use. I was surprised at how much I still didn't know- many of these things Gabriel had learned throughout his time on Earth.

 

We ended that day with some hand to hand combat, which I sucked at. By the time he said we were done for the day, I was tired, sore, and quite irritable.

 

Dinner was eaten in silence, and I hit the showers again, disgusted with how much filth and sweat had accumulated over the afternoon. Once I was refreshed and dressed in some night clothes, I left my rooms in search of my brother. He had disappeared shortly after making sure I ate enough and hadn't really told me where he was going.

 

I wandered the hallways for a while, somewhat becoming familiar with where everything is located, searching various rooms for Gabriel. About fifteen minutes into my wanderings my heightened hearing picked up the faintest strains of music. Using my sense of hearing alone, I am able to track the music to a smaller library about three hallways away from where I was.

 

I peek in and spot Gabriel sitting on a piano bench. He seemed utterly relaxed, body swaying gently from side to side, fingers flowing seamlessly over the black and white keys. It's not a piece I recognize, and considering I have always been extremely interested in classical music and whatnot, this was surprising. I assume it must be an original piece. What really surprised me the most was how developed it was, seeming to flow effortlessly from one phrase to the next. It rises and falls gracefully, and I stand there for several moments, completely and utterly mesmerized.

 

I find my body moving on its own, and soon I'm swirling and swaying to the beat. My feet move lightly over the floor, flowing from one position to the next. I dance and hum along until the music stops, and I slowly sway to a stop. I look up to see Gabriel staring intently at me, and almost immediately my face feels hot.

 

I am so mortified that I find myself frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. Gabriel laughs quietly, and a warm smile crosses his face.

 

"Don't be embarrassed kiddo, I kinda expected you to do something like that as soon as I realized you had walked in." he stands up and wanders over to the window, gazing through it without much interest if I'm honest.

 

Still slightly embarrassed, I cross over to stand next to him. He didn't really react, instead choosing to play again. This time, he cycled through some more familiar classical pieces that I knew quite well. He seemed to fall back into his trance. I could feel the unfocused way his thoughts were moving, his concentration appearing to disperse in all directions. I faintly picked up on some strands of thought, none of them making sense nor connecting to each other in any way.

 

"What were you playing?" I finally ask, keeping my voice quiet as to not break the spell that seemed to have fallen over the room.

 

Gabriel refocuses on me and then pauses, taking that moment to absorb what I had said. It was strange to see how much my brother had changed over the years. He seemed to be far more mature and the way he had developed, both physically and mentally, was impressive- and that was putting it lightly.

 

"Just a piece I've been writing." he finally says, and his fingers shift, and the melody of the piece is back. Once more, I find myself drawn into it- the strands of notes touching something deep within me. It was melancholy in tone but seemed to carry a sort of hope under the sad progression.

 

I sway gently from side to side, losing myself once more as he begins to play again. I shake myself out of my trance and focus in on him. He seems utterly tranquil with his eyes shut, his face utterly calm, no lines or negative expression there to mare it.

 

Finally, I sit down next to him, and he shifts minutely to give me a bit more room. He pauses for a minute before beginning to play again, but this time the melody is hauntingly familiar.

 

His fingers paused for a minute, giving me the option to join in. This specific piece could be played as a duet, and I had enjoyed playing it with whatever brother would give me the time of day. After a split second, I lift my hands and clumsily begin to play. It had been years since I had played like this, but slowly I gained confidence, and soon my fingers were moving just as gracefully.

 

We repeated the song a few times, one of us throwing in a bit of variation at random points. Eventually, the music ebbed away, leaving us in silence again.

 

I look up at my brother, who was staring out the window to the moon and stars outside. I smile, shaking my head fondly before leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. He barely reacts to besides allowing a small smile to cover his features.

 

"Goodnight Malachi." I murmur quietly before I stand up and leave the room.  How long he sat in that room, I'm not sure, though I am positive that I had a lot to learn about this new version of my brother.

 

Though I left that to tomorrow. All I cared about was that I was bone tired and my bed sounded very inviting. I entered my room and shed the robe I had been wearing, before collapsing into my bed.

 

I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, but I was still faintly aware as the night progressed on without me. The moon and stars moving across the sky as the Earth my Father had loved so much kept on spinning.

 


	11. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy Chapter 11!   
> -Daz :)

The next several days were filled with an endless cycle of training. Gabriel wasted no time setting up a rigorous schedule that -as he claimed- would 'maximize the amount of progress you will make in a short amount of time.'

 

I would wake up in the morning - fortunately waking up early wasn't a problem as after years of being a hunter I had an internal clock- at around 6:30. I would get dressed and head down to eat breakfast. 

 

Gabriel still insisted upon feeding me excessive amounts of food, though I will admit it did help give me more energy. Even an Archangel doesn't have an endless amount of energy. If we don't take care of ourselves, we can suffer burn out just like humans- through a solid day of sleeping and eating usually sets us back on the right track reasonably quickly. 

 

After breakfast, he would send me on a run. I quickly learned the best was to navigate both the manor and the grounds surrounding due to these runs. Just running around the grounds and back through the house to the kitchen was a good two or three miles. 

 

Then it was on to combat and physical training. Extensive work out regiment followed by hand to hand and weapons training. I quickly knocked out the weapons part- able to handle a surplus of guns, knives, swords, and more. The hand to hand was a bit harder. Fighting hand to hand with a human was one thing - I could easily kick Sam or Dean's ass if I tried- but with a fully powered Archangel, it was a completely different story.

 

Still, I found myself steadily becoming better in such a short amount of training. Soon, I didn't find it so hard to deflect and evade his attacks, and I even am starting to manage to counter with my own. 

 

That was followed by a quick break for lunch, complete with enough food to feed several fully grown men, and then it was on to flying. Fortunately, flying was always a strong suit of mine; I took to the air naturally given the right amount of practice. This training was mostly to help me learn to utilize my combat skills while still being able to perform various flying maneuvers- ranging from simple to extremely complex. 

 

After all of that, we spent the rest of the afternoon discussing whatever topic Gabriel could come up with. It seems he wants to expand on my natural tendency towards knowledge and academics. The day after this started he drilled me on the history of various countries on Earth- mostly ones that I had lived in at some point in my long existence. I was most knowledgeable about America, having lived several lives in the country following its establishment. I had spent the last century and a half almost continuously. The second we discussed various medical practices and cases. I was surprised to see that he knew so much about it, considering he would practically fall asleep anytime Raphael would go off about some new medical advancement that had been made somewhere. 

 

After some hours of discussion, we would work on my mental strength. This included honing my ability to defend and utilize the abilities gifted to angels with their sensitivity to life around them. I strengthened my skills in being able to absorb as much information at once, and still being able to utilize it. He would also test my concentration by having me try to block him out of my mind for extended amounts of time. It was quite difficult, considering he was only bettered by Lucifer in the art of infiltrating and manipulating those around us. 

 

Gabriel was, by far, the least aggressive of my siblings. He tended to avoid conflict and try to solve things in his roundabout way. However, it makes him far more dangerous because people tend to underestimate them. People seem to forget that, despite his non-threatening appearance and demeanor, he is an Archangel. I have seen him turn on someone so fast and utterly destroy them.  No one ever expects it, and that's why he was the wild card. He may not be aggressive constantly, but he's still like any other creature. If you push enough, eventually you'll get bit. 

 

When Gabriel would attack my innermost self, he would pull out all of the stops. There was no dancing around it; he hit hard and fast. The first time I caved almost immediately to the train like a force of his consciousness battering against mine. He had imminently infiltrated and began to take control of my Grace and vessel. 

 

This specific ability was something that was guarded viciously. As angels -because that's what we are above all else- my siblings and I are all about consent, but if the need arises, we are not above using our abilities if it means our and the safety of our family. Only my closest siblings and a select few of the Host know of the innermost abilities of Archangels. Being able to control those around us with just our minds is just the tip of the iceberg. There are some things even I don't know -as I never got to that part in my training- and I'm sure Gabriel doesn't understand some things. Michael and Lucifer were the only two besides our Father who truly knew the extent of our power. 

 

I did better the next few times, and now I can hold my own and retaliate for several minutes at a time. It's not one hundred percent foolproof, especially considering that even Gabriel could go on like that for seemingly endless amounts of time- I would provide me with enough time to get away or call for help. The only individuals that I need to worry about doing this are my elder brothers. Lucifer may be planning to break open the CAge, but I doubt he would have any interest in me, and Michael and Raphael have no clue where I am. For the time being, I'm not in any immediate danger. I have time, no matter how little it may seem in the scheme of things, to better myself and be able to stand my own. 

 

Finally, as the sun would start to sink closer to the horizon, Gabriel would call it quits, and we would go inside for a quick shower and dinner. The rest of the evening would be spent doing whatever we wanted. Some nights we would sit and read in silence, I found endless joy in exploring the extent of literature and knowledge the various libraries had to offer, others I would listen to Gabriel play the piano while I did whatever came to mind. Dancing, singing, arts, and writing were all examples of some of my passions. 

 

Gabriel had presented me with two different journals two days after we started training. One was filled with blank pages perfect for the sketching that I sometimes occupied myself with. The other one was filled with lined paper, and I was told that I was to put whatever I could think of down in it. Within a day I had several sketches in my sketchbook and in the journal I would write down little short stories, poems, and sometimes little memories or tidbits of information that I would suddenly remember. Having such a long life, it was a miracle I remember any specifics at all. So, whenever I got a chance, I would write down my thoughts and questions into the journal. ]

 

Tonight, Gabriel was occupying himself with some sort of painting -I'm not positive where he pulled the paints from or the canvas, but I've learned not to question him. I decided to curl up on one the armchairs in the main library, my sketchbook on my lap, a cup of hot tea next to me, and a pencil in my hand. 

 

I doodled randomly, just little pictures here and there until I finally flipped to a new page and starting an actual sketch. I didn't know really what I was drawing- I got into these moods where I would just let myself draw without actively thinking about what I was doing. I got my best drawings that way. I didn't realize what was taking shape until it I suddenly dropped my pencil with a gasp. 

 

There on the page, seeming so alive despite it only being graphite on white paper, was an intricate drawing of my second eldest brother. It had to have been a subconscious memory that I had picked out without realizing it, as this was Lucifer before any fighting had taken place. This was the brother that would play with me for hours on end, going along with whatever silly game I thought of. This was the brother that would encourage and even help Gabriel in his pranks and tricks. This was the brother that would sit and listen to Raphael talk about his own passions or would read and mess around with Michael. This was the brother that would laugh and sing, the one that had all but disappeared in the short years that had followed the start of what was called the 'Dark ages' of Heaven. 

 

It was done with such detail it felt like he could just jump off the page. I am suddenly hit with a wave of longing and nostalgia. I never really let myself think about how much I missed my other brothers, or how much it had hurt to hear Lucifer beg and scream when he was banished into the Cage. How terrible it had felt when that bond was shattered between the five of us. Now that I had the time, and the pain of it all had faded somewhat, I realized just how much I missed home and my family. Especially Lucifer. 

 

Besides Gabriel, he was always the brother I got along the best with. Raphael was too formal for me, always being far too serious and tending to suck all the fun out of everything. Not that he meant to, it's just the way he was. We were just too different in personality, and usually, he was locked up in his bedroom or office. Michael, on the other hand, I always viewed as some sort of parent-brother mix. He acted even more like a mom than Gabriel does, though you never would know it if you met him, the difference with him was it became suffocating at times.

 

It was one of the reasons he and Lucifer became to argue in the years leading up to the war. Lucifer would try to buck his control and his care, irritated with the perceived coddling and motherhenning. Lucifer would lash out, trying to get Michael to back off, and Michael would react by obsessing and worrying even more. Eventually one of them would say something that severely hurt the other, or pissed them off too much, and Lucifer would suddenly disappear. Then Michael would just intensify his coddling on the rest of us- especially me. 

 

While I appreciated it when I was older, and flat out basked in the affection and care as a fledgling, as I grew it became more of a nuisance. 

I would tend to avoid places I knew Michael was, preferring to spend most of my time in the Garden or exploring the far corners of Heaven. Lucifer actually would join me sometimes, showing me some of the places he had found in his own explorations. 

 

Lucifer was also the one that raised Gabriel- just like how Gabriel raised me and Michael had raised Lucifer and Raphael- and thus had a hand in my own upbringing. Gabriel was barely out of his own fledgling years when I can along. Michael had assigned him my 'caregiver' in a hope to help him mature and learn responsibility, though Lucifer was instructed to ensure that things were going smoothly. Lucifer would help keep Gabriel on track and help him raise me the best that they could. It was Lucifer that actually first realized I was different. He once told me, many years after my creation, that the only way to calm me down after getting upset was to sit me in the Garden. He described how I would spend hours there playing with the animals and looking at the plants there. Then he explained that as I got older, it became even more apparent to him. When I had chosen to pursue dancing, along with my other passions, instead of wanting to be trained in combat it had sealed his deduction. Not to mention that my Grace was noticeably weaker. 

 

I didn't realize how much time had passed with me just staring at the picture, my pencil resting uselessly against the paper until suddenly Gabriel was in front of me. 

 

"You okay kiddo?" he asks, warmth and concern lighting up his amber irises. I nod slowly, still unable to draw my attention away from the drawing for long. Finally, Gabriel extracted it from my hand. 

 

"What're you drawing?"

 

He froze the moment he saw the picture, eyes tracing carefully over the perfectly depicted sketch of our brother. For a moment, I was terrified he would be angry or upset over the drawing. That it would be too much for him to handle, that it would remind him of the hole that Lucifer had left behind. 

 

However, all he did was smile in this small, almost sad kind of way and handed it back to me. 

 

"That's really good Daz; it's quite realistic. You want to see mine?"

 

And just like that, it was over. No lingering, no questioning, not anger, or extra words being wasted. He dropped it and moved on to the next subject. Maybe that was his way of dealing with it, just pushing it away and not lingering. I wasn't going to bring it up or say a word about it unless he asked later on. So, instead, I just nodded and got up to follow him to the mess of paint surrounding the canvas set up a few feet away. 

 

I circled around the canvas and then it was my turn to be shocked into freezing. In the picture was an almost exact replica of me just a few moments ago. I was curled up on the chair, a mug sitting next to me on the chair, with my sketchbook spread out on my lap. There was a pencil in my hand and a look of utter concentration on my face. Everything but myself and the few things surrounding me was shrouded in darkness. I could faintly make out the blurred shapes of the bookshelves and paintings lining the walls behind me. 

 

All in all it was a beautiful painting, and it shocked me because I had no clue that he felt that intensely about me. Humans were correct in thinking that art was always done in the image of the artist. Any people are objects were portrayed in the way the artist saw them. In this picture, I was serene and beautiful. Despite it only being a painting I could feel the fondness that it showed. It reminded me of a trip I took with a class at school one-time several years ago. We had gone to the art, and I had found this one painting. It was off a little girl, clutching a stuffed teddy bear to her. She seemed to be bursting with youth and, and I could acutely feel the love and wonder that seemed to ooze of the painting. 

 

I stand there for a few moments taking it in before I picked up on the nervousness that was flowing off Gabriel. I smiled a bit, slightly amused that he was worried over my opinion of this, before turning to him and widening my smile. 

 

"It's beautiful," I said simply, and he relaxed and returned my smile. 

 

Silence fell over us and finally glanced down at my journal, still clutched in my hand. 

 

"Why did you draw him?" 

 

I pause for a minute, gathering my thoughts, before answering. 

 

"I didn't necessarily mean too." I finally venture, nervous about how he was going to react. "I was just drawing, not really letting myself think about it. I think I subconsciously picked up on how much I missed how things used to be. How much I missed him, the  _ real _ him. This was just the result of that."

 

Gabriel appraises me for a moment before holding his hand out. I place the book in his outstretched palm and watch as he flips through the pages - a smile crossing his face as he lingers on a few of my other sketches- before stopping on the drawing in question. 

 

I watch as a flurry of emotions pass over his face. Confusion, anger, sadness, longing, and most of all  _ love _ . I could tell that he missed Lucifer, and the rest of our family, just as much as I did. 

 

"It really is good Daz. I've never been able to capture him like this in this much detail. It's almost as if..." he trails off, eyes trained on the page. I finish that sentence for him, knowing how he felt. 

 

"Like it's real. Like he's going to jump right off the page."

 

"Yeah." his voice is quiet, and I can hear years of longing in it. 

 

But before I can move, the spell breaks, and he hands me back the book and glances up at the clock above the fireplace. 

 

"You probably should get to bed. Don't want you too tired tomorrow, I have something important planned." 

 

I nod before turning to grab all of my things. I pause for a minute beside the door and look back at Gabriel. He's sitting in the chair I just vacated, staring blankly into the fire. I consider going back in there for a minute, but at the last minute walk out into the hallways. Right now he needs some time to process through some thoughts and feelings that my drawing undoubtedly provoked, and I can name a few times I had felt the same way. 

 

I drop my mug off into the kitchen before heading out into my room. I find myself staring up at my ceiling two hours later, the time nearing eleven, still unable to sleep. With a sigh, I give up and roll out of bed. 

 

I quickly dress in the warmest clothes I can find in the dresser -A pair of sweats, a long-sleeved shirt and a pullover hoodie- and exit the room. 

 

I pause by Gabriel's door, considering knocking on it to see if he was in there, before deciding against it and walking down the hallways. I find myself outside, wandering around the edges of the manor. 

 

My eyes follow the walls up to the roof and- throwing any caution to the wind- I grab on to nearest ledge and haul myself onto it. I climb higher and higher, relishing in the physical activity. It caused my already aching joints -not being able to recuperate as easily without sleep- to burn, but it was a pleasant burn. 

 

I make it to the top, pleased that I was barely out of breath, and look down. The ground is far below me, several hundred feet at least, and everything seems to be so tiny from way up here. I enjoy the cool night breeze and the cloudless sky, staring happily up at the stars mentally running through each one as I spot it. 

 

Far below the sounds of nighttime activity bustle on, while I lie on the roof in my own little bubble. It was easy to lose myself in my thoughts, but I instead focus on my stargazing and engross myself in the sounds and smells around me. 

 

Soon, I relax enough to drift into a waking slumber, still aware of everything around me but still able to allow my vessel and Grace to recuperate. I stay like that for the rest of the evening, just absorbing everything around me content to know, for the time being, I am safe. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! Chapter one is done! I've been working on this piece for months with my co-writer. We've edited it at least ten times and have changed much of the plot over the last few months. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! A little side note, my co-writer will be getting an account on here soon so you'll get a taste of her specific writing style and hopefully we'll put out stories of our own shortly. Thank you for reading, the next chapter will be out as soon as possible.  
> -Daz :)


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